My mother started this tradition in our family. I’m pretty sure I was in high school before I figured out the one gift we were allowed to open on Christmas Eve would always be new pajamas. I think that is also the first year my Christmas jammies came from J.C. Penney’s instead of from my mother’s sewing machine.

I love traditions and rituals so much that sometimes I don’t even enjoy staying in a classy hotel the first night or two because it bugs me that my toothbrush is in a different place. However, I have learned that traditions can be adjusted slightly without losing any of their significance. For instance, I did not use a sewing machine to make any of the pajamas being modeled by our grandchildren and grandchildren-of-the-heart in this picture. And, these p.j.’s were actually opened a week before Christmas when we all happened to be together for a wedding.

The being together part is rare these days. And I’ve learned to handle that. On Christmas morning, Wendell and I will probably not wake up at dawn. And we won’t be knee-deep in crumpled wrapping paper before breakfast. We are forging new traditions and becoming more flexible every year to embrace the changing lives of our offspring.

This reality reminds me of the baby who burst into the world with angel songs and shepherd prayers more than 2000 years ago. He grew up and altered a few traditions, too. Those who could accept the change discovered the magnificence of a better Way.

I hope you’ve discovered it, too.