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I wish I could post a Christmas photo from my childhood, but my parents still retain custody of the childhood photo archives. I'll see if I can't dig through them while visiting next week, and maybe I can post picture(s) over New Year's weekend.
Looking at everyone's pictures and reading your Christmas stories has me thinking about my Christmas memories. Christmas eve was always magical for me. After dinner, we would carry all the wrapped presents down from upstairs and pile them under the Christmas tree (we stored them upstairs, behind closed doors, because our cat enjoyed shredding the packages if they were left under the tree too long). We then bundled up in our warm winter coats, mittens, hats, scarves, etc. and headed to the neighboring town to attend the Christmas Eve children's mass.
St. Philomena church looms large in my memory. We seldom attended mass at this parish, and its unusual architectural accents helped cement the experience in my mind. The church had soaring ceilings, with lots of wrought iron accents. The statues and crucifix were very modern metal sculptures that I found quite terrifying as a young child. I also remember that they still used the communion rail, which was a new experience for me (yes, I am very much a post-Vatican II Catholic). My first encounters with incense was at these masses, and to this day anytime they use incense at church, the smell transports me back to those Christmas eve masses. My brothers and I each brought a small wrapped box, and joined the other children during the entrance procession, and left our presents in front of the giant Creche in front of the altar.
When we returned home from mass, we carefully laid out our Christmas stockings. We didn't have a fireplace, so we pinned them to the sofa. Our Christmas tree always had a small Creche underneath it, and we never put out the infant figure until Christmas eve. The living room would be dark, except for the lights from the Christmas tree. We would sing "Silent Night" and then it would be time to head to bed, to toss and turn for what felt like hours, unable to sleep because of the anticipation.
Looking at everyone's pictures and reading your Christmas stories has me thinking about my Christmas memories. Christmas eve was always magical for me. After dinner, we would carry all the wrapped presents down from upstairs and pile them under the Christmas tree (we stored them upstairs, behind closed doors, because our cat enjoyed shredding the packages if they were left under the tree too long). We then bundled up in our warm winter coats, mittens, hats, scarves, etc. and headed to the neighboring town to attend the Christmas Eve children's mass.
St. Philomena church looms large in my memory. We seldom attended mass at this parish, and its unusual architectural accents helped cement the experience in my mind. The church had soaring ceilings, with lots of wrought iron accents. The statues and crucifix were very modern metal sculptures that I found quite terrifying as a young child. I also remember that they still used the communion rail, which was a new experience for me (yes, I am very much a post-Vatican II Catholic). My first encounters with incense was at these masses, and to this day anytime they use incense at church, the smell transports me back to those Christmas eve masses. My brothers and I each brought a small wrapped box, and joined the other children during the entrance procession, and left our presents in front of the giant Creche in front of the altar.
When we returned home from mass, we carefully laid out our Christmas stockings. We didn't have a fireplace, so we pinned them to the sofa. Our Christmas tree always had a small Creche underneath it, and we never put out the infant figure until Christmas eve. The living room would be dark, except for the lights from the Christmas tree. We would sing "Silent Night" and then it would be time to head to bed, to toss and turn for what felt like hours, unable to sleep because of the anticipation.
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