Simple Pleasures

My grandmother always had great stories to share from her youth. Often she would reminisce about the simple pleasures that life offered way back when. Christmas was no exception. As a little girl she would wake up early Christmas morning and the family would all go out to the barn. As she entered the quiet space, her eyes would quickly adjust to the light of what seemed to be hundreds of tiny little candles perched on the tender limbs of the great evergreen tree. My grandma strung popcorn to decorate her tree. This is a woman who was born to a horse and buggy and left behind a Cadillac. Her generation has had the unique experience of seeing things change like no other has or may ever.

I often think that the passing of time has left behind a lot of the charm of life. My grandmother's memories of gifts included a single stocking filled with treasures such as paper and pencils, oranges, and a new handmade dress for her doll. I strive for my girls to enjoy such simple pleasures. Even in rural Costa Rica, I find that I have to shield my family from the material element of Season's best. I am convinced that Christmas is turned on by a switch. One swift flick, and suddenly towns are all bustling with cars and people frantically trying to get "it all" done. Odd, high pitched renditions of familiar holiday tunes roll out of little storefronts and amble their way across the streets. To think that it will all shut off with the same immediacy seems to me, a little forced.

Of course, it is simply delightful to my girls. They love to hear the goofy songs, and walking past fancied up windows and decorated trees on peoples' porches is a treat. They look forward to the promise of a special gift to open, and the fun of baking cut out Christmas cookies. For them, Christmas time is some kind of colorful magic that seems to have been blown in by the wind. That we do not own a TV saves us from some of the pressure of an endless stream of wants bounding out of the mouths of our girls. My only hope is that this inevitable festivity somehow holds some of that same innocence for them as it did for my grandmother.