Every year the most wonderful time of year comes around. Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year, even though the great country I live in takes it a bit out of proportion with Mr. Jolly Saint Nick. When I was a child I absolutely loved the thought of Santa Claus, but now that I am sixteen I finally see how insane people can take it, my grandparents being among them. Every year my house looks like the North Pole puked on it, but I have always loved it because I have grown up with it. One year my grandfather was sick and couldn’t put anything up, and I have never felt that empty.

I have also been taught that a fat jolly old man in a red suit and presents under the tree is not the reason for the season. My family are the type of people who go to church, which means I have always been raised in church, and I was taught that on Christmas, Christ was born. The thing that Christmas means to me is the gift of giving and making sacrifices for family and friends. With the gift of giving I look back on the night of Christmas in Bethlehem, when Mary, a virgin, gave birth to Christ. The gift of giving, to me, is making a sacrifice that I typically wouldn’t think about making: giving up the one thing I wanted so that my family could have enough money to make the best Christmas happen. I have given up my Number One Wanted Present of All Time just so that we didn’t have to worry about my sister being alone on Christmas down in Florida. That doesn’t bother me, of course, because I get the joy of going to Disney World for the third time this year, but this Christmas is going to be different. Hopefully I will be gaining a brother-in-law here very soon, which is exciting. Christmas isn’t just about the presents and the jolly old man that brings them it is truly about all the stuff I never thought my family would have to do for me and my sister to make Christmas this the most joyful time of the year.