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Christmas Party Time And A Whole Lot More

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By Derek Maul

Published: December 27, 2006

Brandon, FL - Brandon, FL - I love everything associated with giving and receiving Christmas presents. Preparation, purchase, anticipation, keeping the surprise factor alive. Piling gifts under the tree, snickering because I know and they have no idea, watching someone unwrap something I worked hard to pull together, even opening a few myself. This year may be Christmas No. 51 for me, but the process never fails to electrify.

Plus, I love the parties, which is funny considering that I'm naturally shy. Somehow though, probably via the social necessity of being the preacher's husband, I have learned the more essential choreography of the social dance. I have found that, to my delight, I really do love people.

All in all Christmas works out pretty well for someone like me.

But it gets better. The huge parade of parties my wife and I attend this time of the year typically involve happy sober people who also happen to like one another.

Not just happy but sober, too? I know that's a far cry from the standard office shindig. But what can I say, I've got bunches of friends who love their lives and enjoy one another's company. From the church choir to my men's Bible study to the support group for parents of college-aged kids, I'm surrounded with much more than seasonal goodwill.

Then there's my wife's office party. Talk about a hoot! The gathering brings together all her staff along with their spouses. There may be only 20-some people, but they sure manage to make a lot of noise.

The evening is always guaranteed Christmas merrymaking, and of a quality pretty much unimaginable to people who define fun in terms of how quickly they get smashed or who they wake up with the next morning.

Stereotype all you like about church folk, but the truth is this is a fun crowd. Maybe it's because we love one other unconditionally. Maybe it's because we're all tapped into the same source of joy. Maybe it's because we're secure in ourselves and we don't have to play games.

Remember traditional dinner parties and sparkling conversation? Well we're a small enough group to still enjoy table talk. So traditionally I ask a couple of leading questions to get the ball rolling. Believe me it's always amazing where the evening goes.

This year my question was, "Share an interesting or unusual Christmas memory." Some of them made us laugh, some of them made us cry, some accomplished both. My favorite was either Kelly's dad and his perennial struggle to keep a Christmas tree upright or Rebekah's "My parents honestly thought it was cold medicine" story from back in 1961. Heather shared about a lost childhood memory her husband lovingly restored, and Gil remembered having the only Christmas tree for 200 miles back in Vietnam.

The best of the evening, however, is always the gift exchange. We hand out numbers and do the whole stealing thing; you know how it goes. It's always a good time, but this year, and for the first time in recorded history, I pulled out the highest number. And boy was I smug.

"Not my turn yet," I kept saying, watching the favored treasures emerge and then change hands numerous times.

Eventually the dust settled, wrapping paper littered the floor, and I had my potential pick of absolutely anything in the room. A house full of happy people suddenly fell quiet, nervously clutching their riches.

I had waited for this moment for years.

I looked at my number and rubbed my hands together in anticipation. Heather's train? Wayne's wrought iron candle set? Jackie's ornament? Gil's angel? Kelly's box from my favorite store? Bill's crystal? But then I wondered to myself: "How could I take any of these treasures?" My friends were all so content and, more to the point, wasn't the spirit of Christmas in the air?

Peace on Earth. Goodwill to all people. O Holy Night. Joy to the World. You know me by now. … I'm sure you can anticipate the rest of the story.

Wrong! I snatched Wayne's cherished present triumphantly. I'd had my eye on it all evening and besides -- you know he had it coming.

Derek Maul is a writer who lives in Valrico. You can reach him at derekmaul@gmail.com.

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