It’s the mooooooost wonderful tiiiiiime of the yeeeeeaaaarrrrrr! It’s true; I hear they wrote a song about it.

Every year I anticipate the holiday season like crazy. The moment the calendar turns to November I’m immediately hit with excitement and childlike joy. The whole world turns a bit brighter, the days are a bit shinier, and my demeanor is a bit lighter. We look toward December with all the hope and expectancy of a kid awaiting Santa’s arrival on Christmas Eve.

This has been a heck of a year, but even in 2020 I struck by the awe and wonder of the season. As early as I can remember, I wanted to experience everything the holiday season had to offer. Growing up my family attended a little Baptist church in Fountain Valley, CA. The season started off with the great Thanksgiving potluck. The Sunday before Thanksgiving we’d all head home after church on Sunday morning to cook (well, Mom did!). Around 4pm we’d head back to church to see our Sunday school room walls rolled to the sides to create the Fellowship Hall, complete with a carpet (yes, carpet) recreation of The Last Supper.

The room was lined with countless tables going on for miles (as an 8 year-old, it definitely felt that way!), all set with paper plates, plastic cutlery, and slices of pumpkin pie. That was always the best part - the pie! I imagined a kitchen filled with grandmas baking thousands of pies in a single afternoon. In reality, someone at the church likely ran by Costco earlier in the week, but let’s not ruin the magic, huh? :-)

I’d eagerly scan the families as they arrived, looking for my friends and hoping we’d all be able to sit together. Once we all settled down, an elder would say the blessing (cue Uncle Lewis), and we’d feast! Corningware would come in from all over the room, filled with family recipes creamed corn, green bean casserole (I HATED this growing up, but now I can’t go without it!), and ridiculous amounts of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and dinner rolls. Of course, us kiddos would just stare longingly at our pumpkin pie as it tortured us until our parents gave us the go-ahead to scarf it down.

Once we all ate to our hearts’ content, we’d run outside and just… play, I guess. It’s hard to imagine kids simply going outside in the dark and entertaining themselves, but that’s exactly what we did! We’d play tag, we’d find dodgeballs and volleyballs, or we’d just run around. Our parents didn’t worry at all, which, now that I’m a parent, seems pretty crazy. The world was a simpler place, I suppose (look at me, dad-ing out here).

Somehow our parents managed to herd us all into the sanctuary for the next part of the evening - a choir concert and hymn singalong. Yes, I was bored out of my mind. I mean, we just came off the highest of highs - cramming sugary pie and running around like feral cats - and we were being asked to sit quietly and watch people sing?! Pure agony! The post-turkey crash didn’t do us any favors, either.

We’d close out the evening with a few hymns and head home, another First Baptist Church Thanksgiving dinner in the books.

The real holiday season would start later that week with the arrival of Thanksgiving. However, this Sunday evening church event served as the official start to the holiday season. I’ve missed those dinners every year since moving away. I’ve joined rather large church families in the years since, and while, as a musician, I love the pomp and circumstance of a huge, excellently executed experience, I miss the intimacy and, well, joy, of gathering an entire community into a single, table-lined room. One day I hope to capture that experience again, perhaps creating my own little version of this meal with friends and family. Until then, I’ll keep enjoying Thanksgiving Day as the official start to the season - even though I start the Christmas movies weeks before!

How do you celebrate the start of the holiday season? What memories come to mind when you think about the start of the season as a kid?