Photo: Karen Botting, Winnipeg MB
Amma and Afi lived in a big, old house called Eyólfstöðum. They brought many Christmas traditions with them from Iceland. To Icelanders, Christmas Eve is more meaningful than Christmas Day, so on this special evening, the whole family gathered at Amma and Afi’s home to celebrate together.

For weeks leading up to Christmas, we children had dreamed about it, especially since the new Eaton’s catalogue had arrived. Almost everything was ordered from the catalogue. There were gifts to buy, and each of us needed something new to wear, as one of the traditions passed down from Iceland was that everyone had to have at least one new article of clothing for Christmas Eve. Ordering from the catalogue meant there was always the possibility of needing to return or exchange items that did not live up to expectations. Another tradition was that every corner of the house had to be cleaned until it shone, and all the dusting and polishing had to be completed by six o’clock in the evening on Christmas Eve. 

The day before Christmas Eve, some of my uncles would go into the woods nearby to chop down the perfect spruce tree. It had to be tall enough to nearly touch the ceiling and be shaped just right. The tree was set in a corner of the dining room and was trimmed with red crepe paper streamers, homemade decorations, with a big shiny star at the top. Candles in their holders were clipped to the branches. Red and green streamers were strung around the dining room and parlour. The big double doors to the parlour were left open so that, as family and friends arrived, there would be room for everyone in the one big room.

Presents were piled high around the tree and on the large dining room table. Most of Amma and Afi’s 11 children and 35 grandchildren would be there, as well as the hired men and a few neighbours. Amma always had gifts for everyone there. 

At 8 p.m., Amma would sit down at a small table, open the Bible, and read the Christmas story in Icelandic. Then Afi would say a prayer, thanking God for the blessings of the past year, for his family, and for all those gathered together in love and fellowship. Then the candles on the tree were lit. We children had been waiting eagerly for this moment. The flickering candles illuminating the tree made an almost magical sight. Afi stood close by, keeping a watchful eye on the flames, lest the candles set the tree on fire. With the candles casting a warm glow, we sang familiar Christmas carols – some in Icelandic, some in English. I remember being eight years old, and before the Christmas sing-along, I sang “Silent Night” as a solo, with my cousin Asta accompanying me on the piano. After the carols, the candles were blown out, and the presents were distributed.

Excited and happy, we children ran upstairs to play with our new toys, while downstairs, the Christmas lunch was being prepared. The dining room table was set with a crisp white tablecloth and large white candles. There were platters of rúllupylsa on Icelandic brown bread, pönnukökur, kleinur, vínarterta, Christmas cake, cookies, and sometimes bowls of fresh fruit. This was served with brimming cups of hot chocolate – another Icelandic tradition. After lunch, we gathered our gifts, ready to go home.