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The Christmas Season is now upon us. It comes all in a rush when the Thanksgiving turkey is nothing but a carcass to be put out with the trash.

As we are scraping dishes and cleaning the kitchen our minds are already filling with the list of things that have to be done to insure a convivial Yuletide. There are trees to be trimmed, lights to be strung, attics to be raided, and Christmas villages to be laid out on the fireplace mantel or deep bookshelf, high out of reach of toddlers.

And not once do we really ever think about it as being work. It isn’t work, it is the pleasure of childhood that comes roaring back to life and makes us kids again. It’s the thought of sitting on the sofa with knees drawn up to your chin and just gazing at the sparkling splendor that is your Christmas tree, being held aloft by the pile of presents that lay beneath all gaily wrapped and awaiting the pirate hoard who will rip into them, opening the treasure with abandon and noise.

It’s the anticipation of the family gathering together, all the hurts and worries of the year now behind us, a distant memory not to be recalled here and in this place. And it is the memories of Christmas’s past, when other loved ones gathered around a distant tree all aglow with lights and gay ribbons of red and green, Santa’s bounty awaiting eager grins.

And it all started with the birth of a child. Hush. Do you hear it? It sounds like Angel wings gliding gently down to the earth.

How often do we forget that what we are preparing is the ultimate birthday party? All the gentleness and forgiveness, all the charity and love that is filling our hearts and souls now, was taught to us and passed down from parents to children for generations untold.

And so I say, with Thanksgiving behind us, a Merry Christmas season is upon us as we anticipate a birthday. Let the party begin.

— Sandi McBride is a resident of Jefferson, who blogs regularly and enjoys her garden and her furry and feathered friends. She is a wife and mother of two sons.