Tales of the Heartily Homeschooled: Sample Chapters

We Wish You a Currey Christmas

by Carolyn

Christmas is a time-honoured tradition in our family. Christmas carols are wonderful at that time of year, but another song might express it best: “Tradition!” sings Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. “Tradition!” sings our family as we pull out the homemade decorations and recipes we’ve used for two decades—and especially as we hunt for the yearly foliage.

The Great Christmas Tree Hunt is an important part of Currey tradition. A particular weekend arrives, and my parents hold council to decide whether they should bring home the Christmas tree or wait another week. Excited little children prevail, and the discussion ends several hours later with the entire family pulling on winter paraphernalia as the sun sets (it’s not that Mom and Dad take hours to decide anything, but there have been a few interruptions).

We reach the tree farm as the last light fades and whip out our flashlights. After an hour or so, in which people get lost, fall in the mud, and name half the Christmas trees on the lot, we select one. The tree is christened—“Sir Bulstrode” or “Oswald Bosley” or some other ostentatious title—and is ceremoniously cut down. We haul it back to the van, realize we have no way of getting it inside the vehicle, and somehow secure it to the top with ropes. By the end of the evening the tree stands securely tied to the living room wall, and 10 contented Curreys munch cinnamon buns around it.

One Christmas was an utter disaster in the way of shrubbery. After we found and adopted a massive tree, we decided that we would just prop it up in the corner, rather than tying it back as we usually do. Bad plan. No sooner was the tree decorated than it fell over, flooding the living room with the contents of the tree-bucket (large rocks and inordinate amounts of water) and breaking several ornaments.

Disaster ensued as all ten of us tromped around in the newly created lake, getting in each others’ way and trying to salvage the ornaments. Oh, did I neglect to mention that my father was stuck underneath the tree? We eventually tied it back, but by that time it had acquired a habit of toppling. It continued to do so throughout the holidays. We tiptoed around the tree whenever we had to go near it. Putting presents under it was like building a delicate puzzle. Every Christmas after that, we have hoped for a better-behaved tree!

Then there is the matter of baking. About twice a year, the baking fit falls upon me. When that happens, nothing can stand in the way of my wooden spoon. Conveniently, Christmas happens to be one of those times. I stalk into the kitchen with a determined look and proceed to crank out about three dozen sweet breads, 24 dozen sweet rolls, hundreds of cookies, and copious amounts of candy and cake. This ensures that we don’t run out over Christmas. It also lasts us for months. I call to witness the fact that Christa pranced past me on this lovely May day gurgling, “I found another loaf of cranberry eggnog bread from Christmas! How wooooonderful!”

Then comes the mass present attack. We do not do this like most North American families. My father, ever neat and orderly, passes out one present at a time, and we all politely watch the recipient open it. After sufficient oohing and aahing, we pass out another one. Once a few presents have been opened, Dad calls a halt to the proceedings so we can clean up the wrapping paper. We carefully sort through the paper to make sure nothing of value gets thrown out. Then the paper is piled into two boxes. Two, because my father always unwraps his presents very carefully so the wrapping paper can be reused. The rest of us are not so thrifty, so our shredded paper goes in the other box. We hear that many families get through the pile in an hour or so, but it takes us all day.

For a lot of people, this is what Christmas is all about. The exterior things—the presents, the getting, and that feeling of not being quite satisfied because you already have too much. But this is just like focusing on the wrapping paper rather than what’s inside. We often get stuck with the glitz because we’ve missed the real thing.

The real thing is carefully wrapped up in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. The whole point of Christmas is the salvation that came into the world so many years ago. Christmas is such a wonderful time to reflect this in our own families. The handmade gifts and bits of folded, coloured paper carry a dear message of love. They are like a mirror reflecting the greater love. Immanuel: God with us.

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