I want to post some original Christmas musings if time allows, but for now, you'll have to content yourselves with some Christmas thoughts from C.S. Lewis. (Which is kind of like telling the guy looking for a wall poster that he'll need to be content with a Van Gogh.) Enjoy the rich profundity herein:
I feel exactly as you do about the horrid commercial racket they have made out of Christmas. I send no cards and give no presents except to children. - Letters to an American Lady
Not quite what you were expecting, eh? I'm sorry to have to break it like this, but I had to find some way to tell you loyal readers not to expect any presents this year. I do find it a relief that Lewis felt the same way about Christmas as I do, and as most all of us do, if we live in the North American ghetto of Xbox-carrying Santa.
However, keep in mind that C.S. Lewis glowingly portrayed
It was a sledge, and it was reindeer with bells on their harness. But they were far bigger than the Witch’s reindeer, and they were not white but brown. And on the sledge sat a person whom everyone knew the moment they set eyes on him. He was a huge man in a bright red robe (bright as hollyberries) with a hood that had fur inside it and a great white beard that fell like a foamy waterfall over his chest. Everyone knew him because, though you see people of his sort only in Narnia, you see pictures of them and hear them talked about even in our world—the world on this side of the wardrobe door. But when you really see them in Narnia it is rather different. Some of the pictures of Father Christmas in our world make him look only funny and jolly. But now that the children actually stood looking at him they didn’t find it quite like that. He was so big, and so glad, and so real, that they all became quite still. They felt very glad, but also solemn. – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
So Lewis certainly wasn't immune to the joy of a heartily celebrated Christmas, so long as the jollity was for the right reasons.