Elvis really loved Christmas.
He loved Christmas because he grew up poor and liked lavishing presents on his friends and total strangers and decking out Graceland with festive decorations to the max. Red West was one of his lifelong friends from Humes High School in Memphis, later he became his bodyguard. Red wrote “Why Can’t Every Day Be Like Christmas?” for Elvis, and it peaked at Number 2 on the charts in 1966.
I’m a soft touch for feel-good nostalgia, but this ditty lays on the sentimental syrup heavy nonetheless; Red’s words remind us that Christmas is not a one-day deal. He admonishes us to cultivate Christmas in our hearts every day—year-round. Preachers are also always pushing this point at us during this season.
Most of us have many marvelous Christmas memories that we cherish… We all want everything to be extra special and just right at Christmas. But things can go awry and end up like a scene from a Chevy Chase Christmas movie as quick as you can say “Ho, Ho, Ho…”
“Children come over to the tree… Daddy’s going to read the Christmas story and say a prayer before we open our presents!” But when the tree falls for the third time in a week my true Scrooge/Grinch self bursts through my holly/jolly veneer.
“I’m gonna say a prayer all right… I gonna pray that that ____tree doesn’t fall again…”
In the Disney Christmas world, the tree doesn’t fall down—three times. That one pesky bulb on those wretched Christmas lights doesn’t short circuit the whole string of lights. Kids don’t have the sniffles or come down with the flu. The weird relative, the crazy uncle doesn’t show up unexpectedly yet again.
When my parents celebrated their first Christmas together funds were limited. He decorated the diminutive Charlie Brown tree with unwrapped, dime store candy canes. Armies of ants from near and far greeted the newlyweds when they stepped into the room that morning.
We’ve carried on with the family holiday ant tradition. Rows of marching, marauding ants show up without RSVP invitations invading the kitchen cabinets or the bathroom seeking warmer shelter during December. The smell of Raid ant spray mingles with apple cider…
At some point you realize your expectations for family gatherings don’t need to mirror what Martha Stewart concocts. We just need to remember “the reason for the season” and not worry so much about all the sentimental trappings.
In retrospect, we can laugh at the amusing mishaps, but other memories that intrude on the seasonal festivities aren’t so welcome or amusing—particularly for people who are grieving a recent or past loss of a loved one. Ironically and sadly, a lot of tragedy seems to hit during the holiday season.
Grief is a long and winding road, and you never know when some turn in the bend brings back a painful memory and you fall face first into a pothole of self-pity. Fortunately, the Good Shepherd comes and helps you put another foot forward, and even when you fall yet again his wounded, worried and wandering sheep can follow Him onto the right path.
After Christmas we will be sweeping up the pine needles from the tree and packing the decorations away in the plastic Walmart bins for another year. BUT as Red West reminded us in 1966, we don’t have to pack the Lord away…. What a blessing that the Lord is only a prayer away and we can visit with Him every day, not just on December 25.
Doug Vinson is a retired journalism professor and has a humorous, nostalgic book about growing up in Athens in the ‘70s called College Town.
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