I'll Be Dead in Two Weeks

It’s a few days before Christmas…the last one we’ll have if you believe the Mayans.  So, what better time to reminisce?

I have lots of Christmas stories, and I’m sure I’m not unique.  We didn’t have any weird traditions or anything, and we were always together at Christmas.   My dad didn’t dress up as Santa Claus.  We didn’t have wild holiday parties.  But each Christmas was special, nonetheless.

My parents did try to convince us that there was a Santa Claus, but they weren’t fully committed to the ruse.  One year, on Christmas Eve, they set up a wrapping station in the dining room and wrapped the gifts—and by “they” I mean “my dad.”  My mom would supervise and delegate to her staff of one.  And with each wrapped gift, my mom would summon my brother or me to come get it, and take it downstairs to place under the tree.

Harmless enough, right?  Well, because my mom also insisted on teaching us how to read right out of the womb, we’d sneak a peek at the tags on each gift.

Hmpf.  My brother & I suspected that there was, in fact, no Santa at all.  We tried to interrogate my parents.  My mother, who felt little compunction about perpetuating the myth, but still felt a slight pang of disobedience from her children, adopted the attitude of: “Fine.  If you don’t want to believe in Santa, that’s your problem.  I guess it’s all clothes next year.”

My dad, on the other hand, made some weak attempts at convincing us.

There endeth the magic, I guess.

By that time, though, we started getting ready for church.  We got all dressed up in our best church clothes, and piled in the car.

The best thing about Christmas Eve at my church was the candlelit singing of Silent Night.  Silent Night was always at the end…sort of a reward for behaving all the way through the sermon.  And that year, I asked my mom for my own candle.  Years prior, she had always held my candle for me.  But this year, with 5 years of life experience, I felt I was ready.  So after we settled into the pew, I asked:

Can I have a candle?
No.
But…
No.
What if…
No.

Folks were still filing into the church, so I busied myself with the offering envelopes while I contemplated a new strategy.  Asking for permission clearly did not work.  I glanced over at my mom, who sat on the other side of my brother.  She was distracted by friends and acquaintances wishing us a Merry Christmas.

It was now or never.  I loudly announced to no one in particular:

I was careful to act naturally.

I sneaked back to the door and stole a candle out of the greeters’ basket.  This was gonna be great.

Wait…I hadn’t thought this all the way through.  I had no pockets, and therefore, nowhere to hide my candle.  My parents had put me in a stupid dress with little white socks and patent leather shoes.  I was completely transparent.  So, I did the only thing I could do…I hid the candle in my ruffled underwear.

When the service started, I followed the order of things in the bulletin.  When the lights dimmed, I carefully reached under my dress, and pulled out my contraband candle.

My mother hadn’t noticed that I had scored my very own candle, and by the time the usher came around with the flame, it was too late.  I proudly stuck my candle out for Mrs. Glatz, the usher.

“Be very careful, darling,” she whispered as she lit my candle with her own.  Boy oh boy!  Would I ever!  I looked over at my mom, gauging how much trouble I was in.  She had a raised eyebrow, and her jaw jutted slightly.  Heck…that was only a 4 on the trouble scale.

“Silent night!  Holy Night!”  We sang in the candlelit church.  Now it was Christmas!  “Chriiiist the Savior is Boooooorn!”

Rev. Meier, our pastor, said quietly, “Let us pray.”  I bowed my head.

That’s when it happened.  I had set my hair on fire.

I don’t remember a whole lot, other than my mom frantically swatting me about the head as my grandmother loudly asked, “what’s that smell?”

After the fire was out, my mother forbade me to touch another candle until I was 30.  She may have been assuming…or hoping…she’d be dead by then, and wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Either way, it was time for me to start trying to enjoy less flammable holidays.

Hope you have a safe & flame-free holiday season!