Let's Always Remember The Magic of Christmas

This is not “A Christmas Carol.”  Well, maybe this is sort of my version of the tale, because every year, I think back on the best parts of my Christmases past.

I’ve already gotten one major letdown this year: Josiah Sumbry and the Greater Mount Zion Baptist Church choir will not present a Christmas concert on the third Sunday of December.

I am saddened by this because over the years the Christmas standards, anthems, spirituals and solos were all a part of my celebration. I remember back when — another time, another church — Sumbry and the church choir performed two Christmas concerts.

“Since COVID, I have not done a good job publicizing the annual Christmas concert,” Sumbry said. “The word is not getting out like it used to circulate; consequently, our attendance has dwindled significantly during recent years. It’s a lot of work to put in for the singers to minister to a relatively small audience.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love preparing for and presenting the Christmas concert. This year would have been my 30th consecutive year presenting the concert to the Columbus-Phenix City community. And I’m not tired, yet.”

We’re not tired either. So let’s just see if we all can’t be prepared for Christmas 2025.

Meanwhile, let me go way, way back to when I was about 9 years old. It was Christmas Eve and I was eager to go to bed so Santa could bring all my presents, and pile them under the Christmas tree.

The next morning when I woke up, I could run downstairs, pausing just long enough to see the tree with its twinkling lights and all of my presents spilling from under the branches.

I only had one sibling at the time — a brother. But he wasn’t much more than a baby. So his Christmas presents were going to be few in number, and I was set for a “bunch of stuff.”

But I’m ahead of myself. Let’s go back upstairs to my bedroom. It was a cold Fort Dix, N.J., night, with a couple of inches of snow on the ground. I opened my window, leaned out and took a long  deep breath. I can still remember the icy sensation I inhaled.

I looked left and right. I wasn’t looking for anything. I was just looking. But to this day I swear I heard bells jingling. My heart started beating faster. I looked to the right and saw a single red light. My heart was pounding so fast that I could have suffered a kiddie cardiac, and collapsed with my head hanging out of the window.

“Santa, and I’m not even asleep yet,” I thought to myself. My hopes and dreams of all those presents under the tree for me were fading. Everybody knew children had to be asleep when Santa paid his visit. We didn’t have a chimney, so my parents stayed up to let Santa in.

I’m not sure if I closed the window or not, but I jumped into bed, heart still racing, scrunched down in the bed, and pulled the covers over my head. I don’t know if I fell asleep or passed out.

The next morning whether I woke up or regained consciousness, I jumped up, heart pounding, ran downstairs, pausing to see if the big elf had paid me a visit. There were lots and lots of presents.

Over the years, I’ve reflected on my Christmas Eve adventure many times. Fort Dix and McGuire Air Force Base were next door neighbors, so there’s no telling what I saw and what I imagined. But I’m sticking to my childhood version, because even at 70-something, I still believe in the magic of this season.