When I think about Christmas as a kid back in the 80s, I have a very specific and vivid memory of the year my brother and I got the original Nintendo Entertainment System, bundled with the first Super Mario Brothers and Duck Hunt games (with the accompanying controllers and Zapper gun!).
That was my “official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle” Christmas moment—a gift that was the coolest thing around and which I desperately wanted.
Unlike many other gifts, that Nintendo more than lived up to the hype, providing endless times of fun for me, my brother, and my friends over the years—sitting too close to the tube TV screen with our short wired controllers on the shag carpet in our faux-wood paneled basement for hours (days?) at a time. Long live the 80s!
That was a really special Christmas.
Beyond that one, if I’m honest, I don’t really remember too many specific gifts that I got as a kid, I’m sorry to say. I know my parents spent time and money and put a lot of effort into finding the right presents, but as a middle-aged man now, they all kind of blur together.
I do remember many other things about my childhood Christmas seasons, though.
I remember my dad chopping down the Christmas tree, later watching him string it with multicolored incandescent Christmas lights (can we all agree that LED Christmas lights are the worst?), and then standing high up on a rickety ladder outside in the bitter cold, putting more lights up along the rooftop, filling our home inside and out with a warm Christmassy glow every night.
I remember him taking us tobogganing and laughing hysterically with us as we flew down the hill together on a flimsy wooden sled.
I remember snowball fights and forts out in the yard.
I remember sitting with him and watching classics like A Christmas Carol, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and A Charlie Brown Christmas.
I remember him blasting on repeat the Carpenters’ Christmas Portrait record (his favorite), providing the familiar soundtrack to all childhood Christmases.
I remember him leading us in watching the Nativity part of the Jesus of Nazareth miniseries (his favorite Jesus movie) so that, amidst all the other aspects, we would remember the reason for the season: that Jesus was born to save us because He loved us (Matthew 1:21-23).
I remember him getting the family into the car every Christmas Eve and taking us to church so that we could focus on Jesus before the festivities began, singing carols by candlelight and celebrating that Christ was born in Bethlehem (Luke 2:10-11).
I remember him getting up early with us on Christmas morning and quietly watching us open our gifts with a beaming smile on his face.
I remember him sitting on the living room floor trying to assemble some complicated toy I had just opened with incomprehensible instructions.
I remember him carving the Christmas turkey (his one job, with Mom doing everything else for dinner).
I remember him giving thanks before we ate the Christmas meal, honoring Christ and celebrating Who we were celebrating.
And I remember him trying (and failing) to learn how to play Nintendo with us, not enjoying it, but doing it anyway, well after Christmas was over, just to spend time with his kids.
(And I must note my wonderful mom was there for all of this as well—working hard, buying gifts, baking Christmas treats, and creating warm fuzzy memories for the family all along the way. But this is an article for dads, so Dad gets the focus this time!).
That one Nintendo Christmas remains a core memory for me—the great joy of receiving a great gift, back when Christmas was still so magical for a kid.
I don’t know if I’ve ever given my own kids a Christmas equally magical gift-wise, although not without effort. My dad was a successful businessman, while I am a minister, and it’s safe to say our salaries can’t be compared. Thirty-five years from now, perhaps one of my kids will write an article on childhood Christmas, and we’ll see.
But my point, of course, is that as wonderful as the gift was and that memory is—it wasn’t ultimately what really mattered when it came to Christmas.
As dads, we can feel great pressure at this time of year to give our kids an amazing Christmas, but we don’t need to give our kids amazing gifts to do that. Realistically, most of what we give them will soon be forgotten.
My best childhood Christmas memories include a little about gifts. But when I think about my dad at Christmas, it wasn’t anything near the main focus.
My dad really nailed it at Christmastime just by being there.
He (with my amazing mom) created memories simply with his presence, often in small, cheap, or free ways.
My dad really nailed it at Christmastime just by being there.
Playing with us, watching things with us, serving us, singing with us, eating with us, and over all of it, always making sure that Jesus was centered as the most important part of the season.
It won’t take a lot of money to nail it for Christmas this year.
It will take you being you, being present, and being available to experience the joy of the season in all its forms with your family.
Every Christmas chore performed, every movie watched, every song played, every Nativity story encountered, every Christmas Eve service attended, is impacting your kids far more than you realize.
We all know Christmas is too commercial, and I don’t know much we can do about that culturally.
But we can make sure we’re keeping Jesus as the highlight of the season for ourselves and our kids (Hebrews 12:2), and we can make sure that we’re creating the simple but meaningful memories of family, joy, and Jesus that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.
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