This time of year always makes me nostalgic. Not only about past Christmases, but about people who are no longer with us. It's not that I'm not looking forward to this Christmas, but a part of me misses what was. Maybe it's that part of me that remembers how much love and laughter and how, especially at Christmas, we all put aside any feelings of dislike and just enjoyed being with each other, quirks and all. The feeling of family, of being safe and loved and yes, even a little spoiled with all the presents.
But now that I'm older, I wish not for the presents, but just for the time we spent together. Going to grandma and grandpa's and all cramming into the living room while grandma read the Christmas story out of Luke and then singing carols as a family with Aunt Esther playing the piano. Then Uncle John singing "O Holy Night" while we all listened with anticipation for him to hit the high note. Listening to grandma laugh about some joke present that, more often than not involved underware. Waiting to see who would be the lucky one that would get the gift that grandpa made in his wood workshop. And the food! If you haven't been fortunate enough yet to try to get 35-45 people around a couple of tables and all the delicious food that entails, I encourage you to do that, at lest once before you die. Put it on your bucket list! It's a lot of work, cooking, cleaning, baking, cleaning, basting, cleaning, but so worth it in the end. All the "mmm's"' the "this is so good's", and the I'm so full I can't eat another bite's", only to watch as they go back again in abut 30 minutes to nibble at the dessert that they didn't have room for.
Those times are so special, and yet, too often we get so caught up in the busyness of trying to make things perfect that we forget to actually cherish the moment. Then we hit 40 something and realize that those precious times are now only irreplaceable memories. Our loved ones are celebrating Jesus' birthday with him, while we try to replicate our memories so that our children will some day look back and miss the simplicity of their childhood Christmases.
My mom loved Christmas. She loved the giving more than receiving. Loved baking and eating special Christmas cookies and candies. Being able to lavish us with food and gifts, but mostly love; love from her, but especially love for Jesus. I will never have that again, but I can make sure to pass that love on to future generations so that even when I'm gone, memories of her will not be forgotten.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Lights
Every Christmas since before I can remember my grandparents used to take all three of us girls out "to see the lights". Looking back now, I would say that they were brave to put all three of us in the back of their car and drive around for hours because being little girls and being sisters in a car for more than 25 seconds meant that we would probably fight. But, this venture was with my Grammie, so fighting wasn't an option. She didn't have to ask us not to fight. She didn't have to yell at us to stop fighting. She made the Christmas lights decorating the houses magical.
I remember her sitting in the passengers seat holding my silent Papa's hand pointing out all the lights to us. If you can imagine three little blonde girls completely captivated and all squeezing their faces into one side window of a Buick, then you would have the perfect picture in your mind. He would drive slowly from street to street and she would ooh and ahh and make sure that we did not just look at decorated houses, but that we would see them in all the detail that she did.
"Girlsies! Look over here at the deer! Did you see the Santa on the roof? Look at all those colors! That is so much work!" Those were the kind of phrases we would here and love. She made sure we never missed a sight worth seeing when it came to those lights. All the while Papa would be singing along to the carols playing on the radio, obliging all four of us and magically knowing where all the best light displays were.
One year I remember driving down a certain area of our little town where the displays were especially brilliant. You know, the ones with the lights on the roof and the lit up sleighs, and the poles that beamed brightly with the colorful strings of light and this was just one house. . . it was in that neighborhood. Then, in that same place I saw another house where there was a single strand of lights on the porch roof. It was nothing in comparison to the splendor we had just seen!
I started laughing and said to my sweet Grammie "Why do they even bother? They might as well not have lights at all! They did nothing!' My Grammie just said "At least they have lights up for us to see. They didn't have to do that. It's better than the houses that have no lights, isn't it?"
I remember her sitting in the passengers seat holding my silent Papa's hand pointing out all the lights to us. If you can imagine three little blonde girls completely captivated and all squeezing their faces into one side window of a Buick, then you would have the perfect picture in your mind. He would drive slowly from street to street and she would ooh and ahh and make sure that we did not just look at decorated houses, but that we would see them in all the detail that she did.
"Girlsies! Look over here at the deer! Did you see the Santa on the roof? Look at all those colors! That is so much work!" Those were the kind of phrases we would here and love. She made sure we never missed a sight worth seeing when it came to those lights. All the while Papa would be singing along to the carols playing on the radio, obliging all four of us and magically knowing where all the best light displays were.
One year I remember driving down a certain area of our little town where the displays were especially brilliant. You know, the ones with the lights on the roof and the lit up sleighs, and the poles that beamed brightly with the colorful strings of light and this was just one house. . . it was in that neighborhood. Then, in that same place I saw another house where there was a single strand of lights on the porch roof. It was nothing in comparison to the splendor we had just seen!
I started laughing and said to my sweet Grammie "Why do they even bother? They might as well not have lights at all! They did nothing!' My Grammie just said "At least they have lights up for us to see. They didn't have to do that. It's better than the houses that have no lights, isn't it?"
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