{Day Twenty-Seven} :: Colored Lights and the Sacrifice of Time

There was no hint at what would set this Christmas morning apart from the rest as I peeked around my bedroom door frame. My younger brother peered back at me from around his door frame and we stifled giggles, anxiously waiting the call from the living room that would assure us Santa came.

The house was still and quiet. Low murmurs could be heard as my parents caught a few, quick moments alone before we barreled in. Full of curiosity and trying not to get caught, we inched our way down the hall, our footsteps lost in the carpet. The quiet voices abruptly gave way to silence and we stood still, holding our breath and hoping our sneakiness hadn't been discovered. In that moment, breath frozen and heart pounding, I noticed the strange glow lighting the shadows.

He came! Bellowed my dad. It was a cue we knew well. And it was all the permission we needed to bound into the living room where we stopped short, eyes full of wonder and mouths gaping. I couldn't believe it. Colored lights, candy canes and red bows bedecked a glorious Christmas tree and it was placed exactly where our refined, grown up Christmas tree once stood. Santa had brought us what we asked for.

It didn't take long for the joy and excitement of the colored-lights to fade into the piles of wrapping paper and new toys. The candy canes were taken off the tree and eaten one by one. And eventually the bows and ornaments were wrapped up and tucked away for the next December. Christmas had come and gone.

It wasn't until years later that my brother and I learned the truth. Little did we know (being young and believing in the magic of Santa, of course) our parents hardly slept a wink that Christmas Eve. Instead they spent the night removing every ornament, taking down the white lights, replacing them with colored ones, re-hanging the ornaments, tucking in candy canes and tying up ribbons.

It seems like a small example of how my parents allowed wide margins with their time and how that communicated love and importance to those around them. I could tell you countless stories of all the hours spent with parents and kids in the youth group or all the time given to the church beyond what the job description called for.

But this is one I will always remember. I don't recall a single gift I got for Christmas that year, the year of the colored lights. But I will never forget Mom and Dad's love and sacrifice - all packaged in a perfectly childish Christmas tree.

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Catch up on all the other lessons I've learned from my family right here.