What Does Christmas Smell Like?

“It smells like Christmas in here!” my daughter yelped as she walked into my bedroom. I had just started up a rustling blaze in the fireplace, heaving the splintery wood over the rustic hearth…okay, so all I really did was flip a switch and my gas logs turned on! But something about that smoky aroma transported my baby girl to a place swarming with happy memories. She plopped right down on the floor beside me and immersed herself in the moment, eyes closed, lips smiling.

I wondered where her mind was carrying her. I closed my eyes, too, and let the smell gently waft its way through the picture album flipping in my mind’s eye. Just what does Christmas smell like? It smelled like Russian tea when I lived under my parents’ roof. I can’t say that I really enjoyed the taste of that classic beverage, but when that unmistakable mixture of spices reached my nostrils, magic was in the air! Christmas also smelled like a fresh Frasier fir tree when I was younger. Mind you, we had to get that variety of tree since we bore the name, “Frazier” ourselves! Pay no attention to the spelling discrepancy. Close enough. And oh, the smell! For weeks after the tree was mulching someone’s garden, our house would hint of Christmas every time we used the vacuum, thanks to the left over tree needles inside!

As the gas logs continued to burn, I kept my eyes squinted shut and tried to imagine what Christmas looks like. Remember the uncontainable excitement you felt when you saw the “downtown” decorations for the first time of the yuletide season? You knew then that the fat man in the red suit was on his way! Unlike today, when holiday bobbles start showing up along with the Halloween candy, back then we had to wait until all the turkey and stuffing had settled before donning our garland, lights, and tinsel. Speaking of holiday city decorations, I was in a tiny SC community last summer and howled with laughter at the sight of Christmas decorations on the light posts! I guess it was just too much trouble to put up and take down, put up and take down. I mean, really. We’ve just got to do this thing all over again in 12 months, right? As we say in the south, “bless their hearts.”

Conjuring up the smells and sights of the season, I meandered my way to its sounds. As a musician, all 41 of my Christmas times have started in the early fall with crisp new music books and many a dog-eared favorite. I have participated in cantatas, dramas, concerts, recitals, caroling, and all things musical. I’ve witnessed shepherds in bathrobes who lost a tooth during the play and went crying to Mom in the audience, held my breath as angels flew suspended on a wire from the ceiling, and watched as my very own newborn son played the perfect baby Jesus. With all that music overkill, one might guess that Christmas music would lose its luster. Check back with me in another 41 years and I’ll let you know.

Ah, the smells, sights, and sounds of the season! Our memories of this amazing time of year vary vastly, I’m sure, but ultimately, there are some smells, sights, and sounds that are the same. I guess you could say that the true essence of the holiday has that “new baby smell”. New – newness that reeks of fresh beginnings, do-overs, and a better story. The sights? Yes, the true meaning of Christmas looks like the Father of the universe saying goodbye to the only Son He ever had so that we, the world, could say hello to a Savior. Oh, and the sounds! God’s Christmas story sounds like a love song – my, how He loves you and me! “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16 is the ultimate Christmas card from a lavish Father to those whom He wants to be His children.

May you take His gifts with you into a brand new year, full of hope – that new baby smell, the picture of a giving Father, and the sound of His love song to you. Merry Christmas!

(as published in SHE! December 2010)

Home is where the TUBA is (SHE! magazine December '08)

I love Christmas. Love it love it love it! My special little guy, Jonathan (with Down Syndrome) agrees with his Mom that this is definitely the most wonderful time of the year. Jonathan doesn’t have a strong concept of “calendar”, but at the very first cold snap, he begins asking about Christmas. Over and over and over. Hence, begins the annual countdown. We are on the yuletide home stretch now and the excitement meter in the Griffin household is tipping the scale, for sure.

Only one problem. My little family is a bit “displaced” this Christmas season. We moved to a different city recently and are living in an apartment while we try to sell our house. Having downsized our living quarters over 1000 square feet, we are officially out of elbow room. Our current journey of “togetherness” is proving to be an exercise in self control, to say the least. It’s a good thing that Santa is making a list and checking it twice.

No matter how much nesting I have done in our new, space-challenged abode, it just isn’t home yet. It sort of feels like we are on an extended stay at a hotel. Who wants to have Christmas at a hotel? I mean, the song doesn’t say “I’ll be in Room 1225 for Christmas” – it says I’ll be HOME for Christmas!

I remember my very first Christmas as a married woman. It took place in a tiny little apartment that didn’t feel at all like home yet. We were dirt dumb poor college students, but all we needed was love. Okay, love and a Christmas tree. So, off we went to find our tree! We were so excited about picking out the perfect tree…until we saw the price tags! Good grief, they were expensive. I was heartbroken, because a real live tree was such a big part of my Christmas as a child. Hours into our search for forestry perfection, and cold, red noses to show for it, we had found a Christmas tree that we newlyweds could afford. Allright, so it was more like a Christmas bush. A spruce pine that stood all of 3 feet tall. Not a Frasier fir, but not bad for five bucks. Charlie Brown would be proud. I adorned our beloved tree with a plethora of red and white gingham bows and some leftover ornaments my Mom had given me from my childhood. It was a beauty. Suddenly, that apartment felt a lot more like home.

This year we’ve had to be equally creative to make our new pad feel like home. Our own special tree that we drag out from the garage each year (yeah, I succumbed to the ease of the artificial) and all of our cherished ornaments were a great start. As we unwrapped each tree adornment as though they were presents in and of themselves, we played “remember when” and laughed about the stories that were hidden in each of them.

Hanging the stockings was such a treat, too! While we don’t have a mantle this year, we decided that the high bar in the kitchen/dining room was the perfect home for our special socks. I just love to watch the eyes of each of my children as they try to imagine what treasures will stuff each crevice. And speaking of “stuffing”, we’ve been sure to do the ample amount of cooking and baking for the holiday season. Those cookies that come in a tube can be quite the culinary challenge, but when sprinkled with colored sugar, they are sure to please!

And last but not least, I’ve assured the kids that Santa will know that we have moved. My middle school daughter, Meredith, wants a digital camera (pink, of course) under the tree. My second grader, Savannah, has visions of a cell phone dancing in her head, but will probably have to settle for some new Hot Wheels cars, army gear, and Barbies. A creative combination, don’t ‘ya think?

Jonathan has quite the interesting request for the man in the big red suit this year. He has decided that he wants a tuba for Christmas. Yes, you read right. A tuba. Jonathan already has a trumpet and a trombone. It seems only fitting that he would top his collection with the crown jewel. A tuba. Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking? That a tuba and an apartment complex don’t mix? Ah, we’ll have to see what Santa thinks.

“Home” is a relative term, I suppose. Give us God’s love, each other, a hefty dose of Christmas nostalgia and we’re good to go. All that and a tuba is more than any family could ask for.