Family.
I could just leave it at that, but the blogger in me wants to elaborate. Of course, Christmas is actually a celebration of the birth of Jesus, but how bad is it that that's not what I get most excited about? It's an essential part, yes. A good opportunity to reflect on what His birth means to me. One of my favourite traditions is the Bethlehem dinner, where we spread a blanket on the floor and eat what Mary and Joseph may have eaten that night.
It's not about presents, either. Christmas shopping (the actual shopping part, not deciding what the people I love will exclaim over) is probably my least favourite part of Christmas. I have war wounds from that.
Rob and I were at Toys 'R Us in Kelowna, hoping to find a particular game. The parking lot was full, but we finally found a spot. A narrow one; the cars on either side had both parked right on the line, and we were in a minivan. Rob squeezed us in, though, thanks to his mad parking skills. We were close enough to the car on the passenger side that not only was my door unable to open, but even the sliding door on that side was a no-go. So I climbed over the car seat on the driver side to get out. It was the getting back in the same way that was my undoing. I'm not exactly sure how, but I landed on the car seat in an awkward way, and now I have some sweet bruises (see below).
But I was talking about my favourite part of Christmas: family. My definition of family includes blood-relatives, in-laws, and close friends. I love to get together with them. Laugh, tell stories, eat good food, and sit quietly and enjoy each others' company. I like to sing with them, watch old family videos, play with the kids, bask in the Christmas spirit and excitement.
For me, Christmas is not about what I get (although I am selfish enough to like that part, too) but the good excuse it provides to get on a plane and be with my family.
