Growing up in Queens, my parents worked nearly every day of the year, including Christmas Eve and Christmas day. My dad worked nights for a while, then my mom had the graveyard shift.

On Christmas morning, we wouldn't open any presents until both of my parents were at home. Even still, we would wait until we had family church. My dad would get his very large (to me) Bible and we would sit in the living room in our pajamas. We would open up to Luke chapter 1 and read the greatest story ever told, the birth of Jesus. We would then go around the room and say something that we were thankful for, things that we were thankful that God has done for us and most of all what the Christmas story taught us.

Looking back now I'm an adult(ish), I don't remember all of the presents that I received, I remember the Gift that was born into the world. I don't remember all of what we did with those presents, but I remember the family time I had with my siblings and all of my cousins. I remember that my family stopped the holiday and acknowledged that Today, One Who saves from the punishment of sin has been born in the city of David.