When I think of Christmas, my mind goes to my mother’s house full of our family, decorations, the smell of traditional foods cooking, and music. For most of my life my sisters and I with our families spent Christmas at my parents’ house. In fact, to marry one of those Camp girls you had to promise to spend Christmas with their parents. The excuse that was given was that Daddy would need to be close to the hospital to tend sick patients. I do not think that was the entire reason, but as our family has grown older and gotten larger we still gather together. My sister Beth has gone from the person who played the piano, to the ultimate organizer and worker bee. I am no longer in charge of the kitchen, but rather am a helper and arranger of the flowers. My youngest sister still comes into the celebration in a hurry, and leaves the same, leaving clean dishes in her wake, but her love for our Savior is never in doubt. It is the celebration of our love for each other and most of all for the miracle of God sending his son to be our savior that brings us together. This year will be only my second year of missing Christmas with my family. My parents are no longer with us, we gather at the farm house the weekend before Christmas instead at 206 South Elm on Christmas Eve and day, and our family includes many generations and new faces. Nevertheless in our hearts and possibly on Zoom, this year we will gather to celebrate God’s greatest demonstration of his love—his son Jesus Christ.
—Angela Baker
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