Of all of my exciting childhood memories of my family, one the comes
 to mind most often is Christmas eve.  Every Christmas eve, up until revently,
my family of seven plus my grandmother and Harold would go to Garber
Baptist Church for candlelite services.  My mother Laurie, my father
Phillip, my brothers Kris, Kyle, and Kaigain, my sister Lillie, and sometimes
even my 'adopted' brothers would all pack up into several cars and drive to
 the church at six o'clock.  We would meet my grandmother and Harold, who
is like my grandfather, at the church.  As we walk in, servers hand us
candles and we take our seats, filling up one and a half pews.  Once the
services started we sang many songs that praised the birth of Jesus Christ.
 The preacher would tell the Christmas story to the crowd.  We lit our
 candles after the sermon and sang one last song, "This Little Light Of Mine." 
After the candlelite service was over we all headed back into our cars and
drove to my grandmother's house a couple of blocks away.  There my
 aunt Chris and Uncle Junior and my great godmother Nonie would be
setting up food and bringing in presents to set around the tree. 
As we munched on our snacks (usually raw vegetables with
dips and dressings and mini ham and cheese sandwhiches) we all
talked lively to each other and sorted out presents to each person. 
We never opened the presents one at a time, which I was always
 thankful for because I never like people watching me.  It was always late
 by the time we finished opening presents.  Everyone hugged and said Merry
Christmas for the umpteenth time and we parted our ways.   That concluded our
Christmas eve nights.  All of us kids went to bed immediately ready for the
next morning to come.