The secret to having a better Christmas than most do

I must share a secret with you. When Christmas season rolls around I feel, well, to be honest I feel kind of smug. Superior even. To be down right honest I think my Christmas is probably better than most.

Christmas is a time full of traditions rooted in past life on the ranch, in the country, surrounded by nature. “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go,” symbolizes our desire to return to a rural setting for special events like Christmas. “Jingle Bells”, “White Christmas” and other songs associated with the Holiday, evoke thoughts of pristine country scenes.

If you’re reading this, chances are you live in a somewhat rural region, since it’s you I tend to write for. You and I might be guilty of taking some things for granted, such as our relatively unspoiled surroundings. We are in the minority, however.

During most of the year the average person lives in a city, surrounded by concrete, plastic, artificial trees, noisy traffic and rude impersonal people. About two weeks before Christmas, however, the artificial banana trees come down and artificial pine trees go up, decked with plastic candy canes and soon covered by pollution from passing traffic. It is a noble, but feeble attempt to recreate scenes of life as it was before the cement truck and skyscrapers were invented. It is an attempt to duplicate a life most hurried rush hour participants don’t even think exists anymore. They are trying to re-invent an atmosphere that you and I live in every day, all year long.

Even if your life in a smaller town doesn’t involve livestock, farming or a fifteen mile drive to town, you still live a life style many city dwellers envy at Christmas time. The rest of the year most can’t envision living 100 miles from a Starbucks and only having one Walmart within five miles of your house. They simply can’t imagine what it must be like to make a 50-mile drive down a snowy road to get to your favorite restaurant. Dec. 25, however, that long snow covered road with an old tractor setting beside it, half buried in snow, makes a wonderful Christmas card scene.

In the summer, while the average urbanite is pulling their boat to the lake for a weekend of fun and leisure, I may be pulling my stock trailer, hauling cows from a pasture where the windmill quit. No one in their right mind would trade with me then. On Christmas I get to spread green sweet smelling hay on the ground for those same cows and listen to the contented sounds they make. On the way back to the house, I stop for a minute to view the world God has created for me to live in.

For a brief moment I hope He will forgive me for feeling just a little bit smug. Our Christmas is superior to most.

Merry Christmas to you all!