Season's Givings

When it comes to Christmas, I can never get enough.

The leftover Thanksgiving turkey is still in the fridge when I get all of the boxes down from the attic.

There’s the jolly Santa who belts out “Ho! Ho! Ho!” when you squeeze the toe of his boot, the ornaments shaped like shoes and purses that I use to festoon the little tree in our bedroom, the wise men for the mantel, and candles for every window. Not to mention the hand-painted nativity.

So when I saw the billboard one day last summer on the Interstate near my house for the “World’s largest Christmas store, open 361 days a year”—Bronner’s CHRISTmas Wonderland in Frankenmuth, Michigan—I knew I had to check it out. The four-hour drive would be well worth it, I decided.

“Honey, we don’t need any more Christmas stuff,” my husband, Gary, said to me as I headed out to the garage.

“I know, I know,” I said. “But I won’t buy us anything. I’ll just look.”

“Just look,” Gary reiterated and kissed me goodbye.

Bronner’s makes the reason for the season clear. When I got to the store, right at the entrance there was a life-sized tableau of Mary, Joseph and the baby with an angel hovering over the manger and sheep flanking its sides. A banner proclaimed, “Enjoy CHRISTmas. It’s HIS birthday. Enjoy LIFE; it’s HIS way.”

I stepped into the store, and my jaw dropped. The place was enormous, every square inch filled with Christmas items. Rows upon rows of ornaments. Red-vested workers stocking shelves like busy elves. Trees twinkling. Snowmen and reindeer hanging from the ceiling. This was going to take a lot of “just looking.”

“Care for a cart?” an elf-worker asked me.

Gary’s words ringing in my ears, I slowly shook my head. No sooner had I refused the cart than I spotted the cutest tree done in a construction theme with lights in the shapes of hammers and saws and screwdrivers and pliers. Instead of tinsel, the tree was laced with yellow measuring tape.

Perfect for Brett! I thought. My son worked in construction, and it was always so hard to find just the right thing for him.“I take that back,” I said to the clerk. “I’ll need a cart.”

I wandered through the store. I shook snow globes and tried on a velvet Santa hat. I admired ornaments in the shapes of ballerinas and footballs, birds and horses. Later, when I got hungry, I stopped by the snack area dubbed “Season’s Eatings” and got myself a warm cinnamon roll. Everywhere I turned, it seemed, I found something special.