For me, Christmas memories are joy-filled days. A magical time. A treasured time. Happiness. Sweet delight. Anticipation. Excitement. Smiles and laughter. Presents under the tree wrapped with pretty ribbons and bows. The tree decorated with carefully chosen ornaments, some from days of old. Stockings hung. Homemade cookies, and Mama’s chocolate fudge. Beloved family, and cherished friends gathered together with merriment and good cheer. Watching Holiday movies It’s A Wonderful Life, and The Bishop’s Wife. And listening to Christmas carols The Little Drummer Boy {Come they told me pa- rum pum pum pum} and Silent Night.
The smell of roasted turkey baking in the oven. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cornbread dressing, cranberries, ambrosia, and Pumpkin pie. Deviled eggs, Eggs Brunch, Patsy’s Pumpkin bread, and Gingerbread. See’s Candy and Hershey’s Candy Kisses. And Garrett’s favorite, chocolate covered cherries.
Santa Claus. Full of Ho Ho Ho and holly jolly. Visiting early at my Mother’s house on Christmas Eve, to surprise each one there with an unexpected gift. My three year old son, Gavin taking the gift Santa had given him to my Mother, holding it up gently in his hand, wanting to give it back. Sweetly telling her, but Gramma, this isn’t what I asked Santa for. Leaving my Mother to lovingly explain that Santa would still be visiting later, after we’re all asleep. It was one of those endearing moments we would remember through the years.
Stars, and angels, and glimmering lights. The story of the Nativity. Midnight Mass. Celebrating the birth of Christ, the Bread of Life. Listening to my husband sing in the church choir as voices joyfully sang, O come, o come let us adore Him.
Throughout our childhood, my brother’s and mine, and that of my son’s, Christmas brought me a feeling of joy, and peace. Contentment. That all was well. Full of promise, and hope. My dear Mother’s influence had a lot to do with that, and later my husband. And my Dad, and grandparents. That feeling of love, knowing my loved ones were near. Maybe that’s a good definition of what Christmas is, the love of God being born into the world. Drawing near to us. Born anew, year after year into our heart and home, so that we love in return. And be a gift one to the other.
*** In loving memory of my Mother, Lenora. My husband, Gary and brother, Walt. For the gift of their sweet love, and all the Christmas’ we shared together. And for my son’s Gavin and Garrett; for the blessing they are to me, and new memories yet to be made. And for my Dad
