POST by LIZ: A Miserable Merry Chrissy

I just love Christmas!  I love the carols, the candles, the lights, the tree, the decorations, the silly flashing Rudolf noses, I even love swimming through a sea of flustered last minute Christmas shoppers at the store.  I love Christmas so much that the other day Jed caught me unconsciously beeping out the tune “Jingle Bells” on the microwave’s buttons!

This Christmas was our first Christmas with Billy!  As December approached I found myself thinking about Christmas traditions and what type of Christmas Billy would experience with us. 

Jed and I have been married for 15 years, and within that time we have lived in five different countries and have lived in 18 different houses.  As a kid, Christmas for me had always been marked by rugging up in warm sweaters and staying indoors in a heated home, while for Jed; Christmas was spent on the beach! Creating our mutual Christmas tradition hasn´t been an easy task. 

The 1st of December has forever been an important day for the Townsend family.  It marks the wonderful day my older sister arrived into the world. The day also officially began Christmas in our household. As kids, we would wish Margie a very happy birthday, and while Mum baked the birthday cake, we would madly deck the halls with every bit of tinsel, Christmas hanging decoration, and fake spray snow we could get our eager little hands on. 

We would urge Dad to pull out the tree from the attic, and watch impatiently as he would carefully position the fairy-lights around the branches.  The engineer in him ensured that every bulb was working, the lights were all equally spread out from top to bottom, and facing outwards. (Not inwards where they could touch the plastic pine needles and be a potential fire hazard!) 

Once Dad had circled the tree at least five times, he would give us the thumbs up, which acted like a trigger for the start of a race. We five Townsend kin would waste no time running towards the tree, guaranteeing no branch was left “undecorated”.

Did the tree ever look uniformed and perfect like they do in the store? Absolutely not! But what was uniformed and perfect was our family working together on the annual task.

The most revered job was the correct positioning of the nativity scene.  We would discuss at great lengths which side of baby Jesus Mary should kneel, and whether Joseph should be on the opposite side of Mary or standing behind her; appearing to be the devoted husband.

There was never a discussion of where the three wise men should be.  They were always positioned in a line leading up to the manager which contained the blonde haired, blue eyed baby Jesus with the golden halo around his head.   

We then would raid Mum’s stationary drawer hunting for blue-tac in order to be able to elevate the angel, who bore the banner “Glory to God in the highest”.  I confess that I would get rather annoyed at my younger brothers, Nicholas and Luke, if they dared move the cows and sheep where Margie, Mike and I had spent hours deliberating over where the best place would be for them. 

Christmas Day was always precious.  We would wake up at ridiculous times that were far too early to be called morning.  I would always feel around in the dark for the “stocking”, which actually was a plastic bag with a Christmas pattern printed on the front. 

Then, along with my siblings, we would gather on a bed and feel each and every item, guessing what it could contain inside judging by the shape, size, weight and sound. When we couldn´t contain the self-control any longer, we would all madly unwrap the gifts, giggling in delight about the treasures the bag contained, and appreciating what the other had been given. 

At 6 o´clock in the morning, the radiators came on, and we would fight for position to warm our toes on the white heated metal.

Munching on the tangerines, which were always a staple in the Christmas stocking, we would then make our way into Mum and Dad´s room, bearing two plastic bags for them, and dragging our own plunder behind us.  They would listen in awe when we shared what we had received. Then all ten eyes would watch them open their “stockings” that Santa´s little helpers had put together.  

My Dad´s eyes would twinkle as he discovered socks, Cadbury fruit nut chocolate, mars bars and party poppers, and my Mum would sleepily “mmmm” and “awwwh” as she opened hers to find tweed perfume, Cadbury´s plain chocolate and tissues.  They both acted as if the presents (we brought for 20p at the Little Stoke Junior School´s annual jumble sale) were priceless. 

We would then have breakfast and get ready for church. My siblings never failed in wishing me a hearty happy birthday before we walked out the door to Little Stoke Baptist Church. 

After church came the feast.  My mother´s famous Christmas roast dinner never failed to fill our stomachs and there would always be plenty for our guests, who joined us at the extended dining table. 

I loved to place the party poppers and Christmas crackers on the plates. I would always try and peep inside to see what colour paper hat it contained, making certain I had a blue one - no matter what. 

I would have to guard the crackers from my brother Mike, as he had the habit of secretly pulling out the snappers from the crackers before they had been tugged at. (If he was successful, he would later use the snapper to sneak up behind an old, sleep-nodding Auntie Doll and snap it to wake her up)

Our Christmas dinner always started with a prayer of thanks, then –POP-, the party popper strings were pulled and -SNAP- the crackers, were wrestled with.  Jokes were read and groaned at while we all carefully sported our new paper hats – mine of course was blue!   

The rest of the day was spent in the heated living room opening gifts from each other, relatives and close friends. 

My mother would sip on her snowball drink as my dad willingly offered his fruit and nut bar to us, knowing full-well we would all decline because it contained raisins! By 2 o´clock, the floor was replaced with a carpet of torn up Christmas paper, bows and the unwrapping of gifts continued. 

There was always a Bible reading of the Christmas story; my mum would subtly remind us why we have the symbols of Christmas; there was no doubt that “Jesus is the reason for the season”. 

At 4 o´clock, Christmas morphed into my birthday. I felt incredibly special to share the same day the whole entire world chose to remember Jesus´ birth. 

We would spend the evening playing the new board games we had been given while chewing the left over roast beef in a sandwich Mum had prepared. 

And so this was the Townsend tradition that I had known for the first nineteen years of my life, and apart from the change of guests, it was predictable, cozy and Christmas to me.

When I moved to Australia and married Jed I didn´t realise just how much of change was in store for me.  Our first Christmas was a disaster! 

The 1st of December arrived, and after calling my sis to wish her a happy birthday (facebook and skype wasn´t invented back then!), I wanted to put up a tree.  I lovingly looked into my husband-of-four-months eyes and asked him where we would go to buy a Christmas tree.

“A CHRISTMAS TREE!!!  Oh no Liz, we don´t need one of those!”  he replied.

I started to laugh, as if it was some kind of sick Australian joke or something, but it wasn´t a joke – he was a serious Australian bloke saying NO to my tradition!

I was mortified!  But an AUD$40 Christmas tree was not in the budget for a newly-wed couple, who had just the one income from the bottom rung management tier of McDonalds.  

Deflated, but not defeated, I found my creative flair. I grabbed a stick from a neighbouring garden (we had no garden as we lived on the third floor of a five storey flat in the slums of Western Sydney). I carefully wrapped unwound metal clothes hangers around the stick, making loops at the ends to hold slim unscented candles – scented candles were far too expensive.  It was a pitiful sight and foreshadowed the first Christmas we would have together!      

To make matter worse, the weather was not cold! The 30 degree Australian heat just didn´t add to the feeling I used to get at Christmas.  To help my plight, my mother sent me some fake snow.  Jed ripped open the package and threw it over my head, but my tears fell quicker than the fake snow could.

Christmas Day was terrible.  We decided to sleep over at Jed´s folks place on Christmas Eve, as we were there for a family meal to celebrate Greg´s birthday (Christmas Eve), but Christmas Day felt just like a normal day at the farm (which, don´t get me wrong, I LOVE, and will always cherish, but I wanted my Christmas that I knew and loved). 

There was NO stocking at the end of my bed (the one my mother had sent in the mail was held up by customs), NO siblings to share the moment with, NO fellow early risers (the rooster did not count!), NO church visit and NO sounds of paper ripping - just the heavy snores of my beloved who didn´t wake up until well past one in the afternoon and with a chronic headache at that.  I managed a smile, but it was awful.

After my first Christmas with Jed, the season was always different.  Some years we would be on the beach, other years in foreign lands. One year Jed was blessed to experience a Townsend Christmas.

I asked my own kids what Christmas meant to them.  Without fail, Francesca and Lorenzy said “Great time with family”, Sezni piped up and said “Going to the beach”, and Rafael said “Remembering Jesus”. 

After 15 years, I am rather used to the randomness Christmas brings us yet I´m also grateful that we have been able to establish some constant traditions such as reading the Christmas story, watching the Grinch then Melbourne´s Carols by Candlelight Concert (thanks to YouTube), having a huge breakfast, calling the UK our Christmas morning, and always being together as a family. 

This year we did a few things differently that we hope to make a tradition; we hosted our own, first ever, Carols by Candlelight Concert. Christmas afternoon we put together some crazy games so that 36 kids would enjoy a Christmas party. With enormous thanks to some very generous friends, family and Church in Australia, we were able to organise a Christmas Drive for families who earn less than $3 per day. For ten and a half hours we walked from house-to-house giving out a variety of presents, chickens and were able to share about Jesus. 

When I think about Billy´s first Brien Christmas I can see it was a mixture of being loved by family and friends, receiving and giving, and most importantly - knowing that Jesus IS the reason for this fiesta of a season.       


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