Every time Christmas returns, singing Hosannas, I activate the memories of the Christmas times of my childhood.

On the screen of my thought, I pass images from those days lived within the family: parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters.

Those were days so different from the current ones. Days in which TV had not arrived to our home yet and what connected us to the world, in that distant site, were the radio waves.

I remember that the days before Christmas were of excitement. My sister was very creative and, together, we decorated the house.

Colored ribbons would mix to the green of small branches we picked from the trees in the backyard.

The presents were scarce: one for each child. We were five.

However, so miraculous, when the family entered the living room for the expected exchange of presents, there were packages and more packages.

Colorful packages of different sizes and shapes. Light, heavy, small, big.

It was our particular miracle. We would get, my sister and I, small gifts, forgotten in the drawers and cupboards, we cleaned, polished and arranged packages.

The moment of distribution was of continuous surprises. The person would take the package and tried to guess what its content was.

Would it be a real gift or a trick? Sometimes, we would put something tiny in boxes of various sizes.

And there stayed one of us, between the emotion and the anxiety of everyone, unpacking and unpacking.

In the end, there was always laughter. Sometimes it was just a smooth pebble, caught during a family trip and carefully guarded for the occasion.

Or it was a shell sui generis, from a day on the beach. A book that was borrowed, read and then would return, this way, to the hands of its owner.

Surprises and more surprises. Children participated with their laughs, cries and shouts!

The figure of Santa Claus has never entered our house. Very early, we have learned that our parents and grandparents did big sacrifices to achieve to cheer to each one of us with a toy.

And we gave them gifts, made by us, between the affection and the inability of our hands.

Later, there was the supper, served on porcelain casseroles, especially reserved for important days such as Christmas.

Wedding present! - Our mom informed, to attest the importance of all those dishes.

And we drank in glasses made of crystal, which required all our care.

We all toasted, with soda, which bubbles, causing tickling sensation, made us laugh.

Happy days. Past Christmases when there was no lack in the moment of prayer to the Divine birthday one, the most important guest. Because, after all, there was the feast, because it was His birthday.

Today, when years turned into decades, I thank God for the Christmases of so many family fortunes.

I am thankful for the lovely ones who gave me joy, so many and multiplied to recall.

And I tell you, wishing that you hear in the spiritual world, where you have been: Merry Christmas, grandpa, grandma, dad, mom, dear brothers and sisters of my fond soul!

Spiritist Moment Team.
August 28.2012.