Sweet Jesus

Happy 2,008th birthday, Jesus!
Growing up, I always knew that Christmas was Jesus’s birthday. (For some reason, I never questioned how Santa factored into that.) For years, my family sang “Happy Birthday” to Jesus on Christmas Day. One year, I even made Jesus a birthday cake because I was appalled at the idea of celebrating a birthday without a cake. We made it white, because I always thought of Heaven as white.

Now that I’m grown up and married, I’ve gotten drafted into a different set of traditions. Every Christmas, my husband’s family is expected to get into pajamas no matter what time of day it is and sit around a Christmas tree with an elaborate array of gifts under it. The gifts are handed out one by one. You are not allowed to open a gift out of turn. Only one person can be unwrapping at a time and everyone has to watch. Quite frankly, as an outsider, it’s frightening to be a part of, but it’s what they’ve done since they were little, so all the grown children seem to like playing along. Plus, it makes their mom happy.—Stephanie Gladney, art director

Greed is not good
One year when I was about ten, my siblings and I complained after Christmas Eve gift-giving at my grandparents’ house—we felt as if the other grandkids had gotten more and better gifts than we had. My parents were so mortified at how greedy we were that they cut way back on our Santa stocking items the next morning. We each got one small present with a note reminding us that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” We got the picture and were remorseful about our consumerist ways. Then, the next morning (and several mornings afterward), we woke up to find the “missing” presents in our stockings. The tradition continues to this day. We’ve asked our mom to stop, but she just says, “Talk to Santa.”—Gretchen Kalwinski, associate Features editor

Search party
My mom has an Advent calendar she fills with gifts. My sister and I switched off days opening the doors to get our gift. If the gift didn’t fit in the little box, my mom would put in a clue and hide the present somewhere in the house. When we both went off to college, my mom sent a big box and had our roommates put out the clues and hide the gifts…. We stopped once both of us were out of school, but it’s still one of my favorite Christmas memories.—Carly Mulliken, office coordinator

Miracle on I-65th
Every Christmas, everyone in my family picks a name out of a hat and then gets a ridiculous gift for that person. This tradition started in 2006: My parents were on their way back from Indianapolis and stopped at a ‚Äòmagical’ gas station/Dairy Queen off I-65, in the middle of Indiana. This gas station had stuff like NASCAR T-shirts and “Native American” T-shirts with pictures of wolves. My parents decided that for the Christmas gift exchange, we all had to drive down on our own time and purchase something for our person from this gas station. I received a piggy bank with a figure of a woman with her tongue out and arms crossed on the top. It said MOOD SWINGS. We change it up every year. Christmas of ’07 was Hawaiian gifts—I still have the grass skirt I got!—Leah Johnston, consumer marketing coordinator

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