Christmas is a time for creativity.

As kids we would put on shows, sing carols in school, and the last few weeks of lessons became an elfish frenzy of glitter glue and puffy paints.

As adults, whether we see ourselves as ‘creative’ or not, I don’t think any of us can avoid the creativity of Christmas; selecting the giftwrap and trying only to use three pieces of tape, curating the perfect playlist, researching each of Jamie Oliver’s 36 officially sanctioned recipes for gravy.

For me there are carol services to prep, music to arrange, cards and ornaments to make with the kids, a centerpiece to feed my vegan family members, and lots of cookies. And always a new notebook.

Whatever else Christmas is to you, I think a huge part of its grip on our collective psyche is the opportunity the season offers to enter back into the world of children. And the world of children is innately creative.

That’s the world of Sufjan’s Christmas boxsets, too. Especially in the first few discs, there’s a sense of playfulness and curiosity, of a few friends getting together and enjoying the sensations of plucking instruments and singing Christmas songs with each other. The later synth-prog melodrama of the Silver & Gold discs shifts stylistically, but that same sense of curiosity and wonder remains.

I bought the first boxset, Songs for Christmas, back in 2007. I had just gone off to university and left my sleepy English fishing village behind. Like pretty much everyone else, I had no idea who I was or what I was about, though I didn’t discover that until later.

I remember ripping the whole lot onto my iPod and wandering around the wintry streets and Christmas markets of my new big city. What I heard was joy. More slapdash maybe than the sheen of Illinois, and perhaps less ambitiously grandiose than Michigan — but joyous, naive, beautiful music nonetheless.

Songs for Christmas gave me the confidence to create. I started writing and performing songs. I uploaded them to MySpace. I wrote bad poetry.

Even now, the opening bars of “I Saw Three Ships” evoke some powerful but inarticulable feeling. It makes me want to grab some instruments and some friends, shut the doors, pour some drinks, and make some music. (To my shame, I generally don’t act on that urge, but one day…)

Having grown up in the aforementioned sleepy fishing village, I already had some experience of “I Saw Three Ships.” It was, naturally, a standard at school carol concerts.

But until the Sufjan recording, I hadn’t paid too much thought to how completely bonkers it is. Of course, there were no ships in Bethlehem — it’s completely landlocked. And research into the song’s origins doesn’t seem to help. Apparently the ‘ships’ could represent the camels the magi rode on to visit the infant Jesus; or maybe some actual ships that carried those same wise men’s bones to Europe; or maybe even the ship of Joseph of Arimathea, whose tomb Jesus was buried in and who apparently had a sideline in the tin trade and visited England’s south coast.

Strange. But in the context of a Sufjan Christmas record, oddly not that strange at all.

There’s creativity in the arrangement, too. Usually the song has the feel of a jig, rollicking along in 6/8 time (if you want a full deep-dive into “I Saw Three Ships” check out Cyndi Lauper’s live Irish-dancing version or Sting’s truly awful rendition).

Sufjan’s version of “I Saw Three Ships” shifts the time signature from 6/8 to 4/4, which gives the effect of elongating the vocal melody while the banjo picking and rolling snare underneath keep everything moving on apace.

Listening to albums like Michigan and Illinois, I was always awed by the lush arrangement choices, and unorthodox time signatures (“Dear Mr. Supercomputer’s” 7/8 or the 9/8 of “Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head!”). But I think the effect of “I Saw Three Ships” — and the first few Christmas EPs — is different. Those tracks make me nod my head in time, and smile at his musical flourishes. “I Saw Three Ships” wants me to grab a guitar and get noisy.

Those university days of discovering Songs for Christmas (and myself) are long behind me now. But I still need the reminder regularly to get up, get out of my thoughts, get off Instagram, and get creative.

Whatever else you’re doing this December, crank up “I Saw Three Ships,” and have a creative Christmas.