“The
Lord bless you and keep you;
The
Lord make His face shine upon you
And
be gracious to you;
The
Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.”
Numbers
6:24-26
Three angels stand sentry above the
armoire in our bedroom at Christmastime. The oldest and smallest holds a tiny
harp, her wing is chipped. My Mother gave her to me when I was 8 years old…she
was Spring Cleaning and handed me a small paper bag which she had found high in
a cupboard. “Here,” she said, “I forgot to give this to you at Christmas.” The largest used to guild the top of our
Christmas tree each year. Although her lights have burned out, she still shines
beautifully in her lace gown. My Pop gave her to me the year I turned 26…she
was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but “he couldn’t wait to see her on our
tree,” he said. Standing mid-high to the other two is a child angel dressed in
red. She appears obstinate with her hands on her hips and her chin held high. I
received her Christmas 2005, from one of my Sunday school friends. She reminds
me a lot of the feisty little girl who gifted her. Although I received these seraphs in my
past, they represent my own Christmas angels of past, present and future.
The world over celebrates Christmas diversely,
but we hold a few traditions semi-concretely.
Our celebration begins Thanksgiving although, there have been years we
have erected our tree well before! Throughout the year, we add to our ornament
collection from souvenir baubles Chris has bought me on anniversary trips, the
fair and any special family jaunts. His yearly amazement never ceases as I can
recall where each is from and upon pulling out an alabaster hued glass
teardrop, he proclaims, “this is the one that started it all!”
Like any family, we have a few precious
memories such as the Christmas Eve services which we attended with my Mom and
Pop in 2000. I heard my Pop sing Christmas hymns and partook in communion with
him for the first time. He went HOME the following April. Chris always
cherishes our first Christmas together as a family as his favorite. We all
giggle over remembering Kylie toddling down our hallway one year with a small
See’s plastic stocking on each foot, claiming, “I’m an elf!”
In the past, we attempted to cram our
schedule full with events and activities but one year I simply asked each of
us, “What one tradition is your favorite?” I knew we had it right though the
year my Pop stopped by and the girls and I had all kinds of craft supplies and
old Christmas cards strewn about the living room floor. He grinned and nodded
his head appreciatively as the girls told him they were, “making Christmas,
Poppa!” That was the same year that Chris hand lettered in calligraphy,
beautiful card coupons that I could cash in throughout the year for backrubs,
clean house and time to myself. I still have some in my Cedar Chest. That was
also the year I began writing him annual love letters in addition to his gift.
Consequently, a handful of savors have stood the test of time:
Attending Christmas services, Handmade
gifts from the heart, Christmas tunes played softly and continuously in
background, always taking long way home from anywhere to see Christmas lights,
a Christmas story shared and read as a family, Pop’s fudge, new pajamas for
daughters on Christmas Eve.
In addition, we added two in 2009 that
we hope to continue…attending the local hospice celebration in remembrance of
departed loved ones and opening up our home to neighbors with Chris as Santa in our front yard.
My favorite icon or symbol of Christmas
is the image of Santa kneeling by the Christ Child’s manger. A gift from my
Sunday Schoolers, this small statue stands sentry in our Nativity. This is the
heart of our hearts as a household every Christmas. When our daughters were
very young, we began each season with them going through their toys and
packaging up for the needy to make room for new. Now, Santa has not always
brought them a lot at Christmas. Grandparents and extended family negated that
need long ago! But there was one year when Chris and I thought, “why not get
them everything on their list? We can afford it.” They were so overwhelmed and
it did nothing for adding to any of our Christmas joy. After that, we began our
tradition that Santa always brings stocking and sometimes a special gift for
each or to share. The girls have voiced that the simple gifts are their
favorite. They would be very disappointed to not receive their yearly
traditional “jammies” on Christmas Eve and silly stockings on Christmas
morning.
Although
there are some traditions which we hold steadfastly, there are some which are
born of necessity. Such was Christmas 2001. My Pop had passed earlier that year
and we intended to go camping from Christmas Eve through the day after
Christmas. The holidays that year were very strained and I am not proud to
admit that a lot of that strain was my fault. My grief was so strong that I
almost could not wait to “just make it through the holidays.” A desire for that
and to perk things up a bit for the girls led to Chris and me jingling bells
and “ho-ho-ho-ing” in the middle of the night December 23rd. That year, Santa brought the girls a huge 5ft
stocking filled with goodies for them to share. They often speak of that
Christmas fondly.
As a family, we seek opportunity to help and
give to those that “there but by the grace of God, we may be in their shoes.” I
remember well the Christmas we spent in a deserted storefront in Pasadena which
had been turned into a makeshift shelter. I have never seen a more beautiful
Christmas tree than the crooked one leaning in the window. Simply decorated
with white lights and missing its stand, it glowed with all the promise of
Christmas joy when they doused the overhead lights and lit the tree. Chris
laughs as he recounts the year I decided that along with toys and food, we
would give the needy a Christmas tree. I had a coupon for local tree farm and
my original intent was to buy a fresh tree. But then I got to thinking that if
they were in need this year, perhaps they would also be in need next year so I
proceeded to take down our already erected and perfectly decorated artificial
tree. That was the only year other than once when I was a child in Wisconsin,
that we had a fresh tree. I was especially glad of my decision when halfway
through the holidays, it turned crispy and dry and I thought of the beautiful
tree which would not fade in the house of those less fortunate.
Tree decorating changes as well. Our
second Christmas together, my Pop jumped ahead on what was meant to be my
birthday gift and gave us an angel tree topper. The thirteen years ensuing, the
girls have taken turns putting her atop our tree. My mother’s first year residing with us, she bought
a beautiful new angel to match the peacock decorations she and I found
sentimental to our regular trips visiting the peacocks in the park. As it has been in the years following our
Pop’s death, it was hard to change something that had come from him. My Poppa’s angel now stands sentry above our
bedroom on a shelf where I can see her while in bed during the Christmas
season. Tradition again took a bow two
years later when I found a vintage tin star for the treetop!
I believe the most joyous sounds during
the holidays are those of children’s voices singing Christmas praise. Dear to me are the precious memories of the
Christmases I was honored and blessed to teach Sunday school and direct the
church Christmas Pageant with our youth. Now, we enjoy the annual Nativity Walk
which a local church hosts. During our travels and as we visit different
churches in our area at Christmastime, I remain amazed by the common thread we
all share as we come together as believers to celebrate Christ’s birth.
There are bittersweet memories, too. My
faith teetered on shaky ground the year when business was slow and we were
being evicted from our home. Darkness threatened to consume me that year and I
clung to the motions of believing that all would work out; I clung to the magic
of the season and devoured it hungrily. That same year, we were blessed to
visit Disneyland as Chris had done some work for a customer who worked for
Disney and was paid with guest passes for all four of us. God continued to
provide throughout the holidays and come January, God had blessed us with a few
gifts and mostly odd jobs to make up the difference in what we owed for rent.
God even found us a job walking and feeding dogs for a family who went out of
town for holidays!
Childhood Christmases were challenged as
the relatives were usually bickering with one another and we rarely celebrated
together. Additionally, although our Pop stopped drinking in 1989 and we had
twelve years of blessed sobriety before our good Lord took him home, the years
he drank were somber. He and Mom never knew I overheard the Christmas Eves when
he sat with gun in hand and my Mom had to talk him out of ending it all. Having grown up in the Depression, he did not
give much credence to commercialism although he and Mom made sure Santa
delivered, especially to my younger brothers. Being seven and a half years older
and they being twins, I often got the speech, “there are two of them and you
are older so it may seem that there is more under the tree for your brothers.”
I almost never felt cheated…Just once, when I was sitting at the kitchen table
writing my letter to Santa. I was eight or nine when my drunken Pop walked in and asked
my mom if it was time to bring in the presents. After that, I got to help make
stockings each year for my brothers and enjoyed being Santa’s helper. Revisiting
that moment, I know it was there that I chose to believe anyway. Over 40 years old and despite the past, I
still believe in Santa Claus and the spirit of Christmas. I strive even harder
to “keep Christmas all the year through.”
I do recall a year when Pop seemed
especially festive. That year, I felt he knew how much decorating the Christmas
tree meant to me. Normally, Thanksgiving dinner dishes would be done and I
would beg to put up Christmas. I was always disappointed the years we erected
the small puffy sprayed white tabletop tree with the hideous orange lights, but
was less apt to be destroyed by my active young brothers. Looking back, it is
no wonder my Mom could not wait until Christmas night to “clean up Christmas.” Returning home from school the year I was
sixteen, Dad asked me to accompany him to local Crafts Store. Seeing the coupon
was for a large Christmas tree, I was sore excited! Hopping in the van, he and
I trekked over to Lakewood to purchase a beautiful BIG tree for the grand total
20% off $28.99! Helping my family collect recyclables on trash nights in surrounding
neighborhoods, I knew how precious that money was and I appreciated that tree
all the more.
That same year, I awoke on the morning
of my December birthday to find a handwritten note on the pillow beside me. My
Pop had jotted it on a piece of paper from his favorite note pad which had at
the top of each page: “Kids Need Love the Most, when they deserve it the least.”
I still have the note and cherish the words my Pop wrote.
Personally, my angels of the Past,
Present and Future represent important lessons and hurts through which I have
risen above in the past that make me stronger presently and in the future. As
the Angel of Christmas Past, my tiny angel with the chipped wing reminds me
that those hurts have been healed by a loving and compassionate Father. I may
have lost my Christmas joy, but He helped me to unbury it from under the
wounded clutter in the bottom of my heart of memories. I no longer dread
opening the gifts of Christmas past and I have gleaned the fruits of those
trials.
My beautiful lace clad angel of Christmas
Present shines gracefully although her lights no longer work. A gift from my
Pop, she reminds me that I am beautiful and loved. She reminds me that although
my light physically dims at times as I struggle with neurological debilitation,
my spirit can still shine all the brighter. Nothing can douse the light of joy
which grows as I grow closer to our Lord. Nothing can douse my Christmas spirit
unless I choose to allow it.
Lastly, my adamant child angel of
Christmas Future reminds me ministering to those precious children was just a
season. My present continues to change daily as I don new hats and learn new
skills. Inviting God to intervene in my life each morning and asking Him to use
me to somehow bless another, means that change is inevitable. Change is not
always convenient nor is servitude, but it is fulfilling.
Our past does not define us. Albeit, our
past does aide in molding our character and offers us lessons from which to
learn, but it should not consume us. We cannot dwell in the past nor should we
remain in a rut of pointless tradition or repeated mistakes. A broken childhood
need not hinder a childlike love and wonder. May we strive to practice more
loving and less empty ritual. Our presence is the best “presents” we can gift
any of our loved ones. Those things from the past, which we choose to hang onto,
define whether we exist or live. Similarly, I stand with my hands on my hips, a
lift of my chin and a smile on my face, determined as I treasure that prayer
from my sixteenth birthday and wield it into the future:
May
the road always come to meet you
May
the wind always be at your back
The
sunshine soft on your face
The
rain soft on your leaves
And
when I’m gone,
God
holds you
In
his hand till we meet again.
-Dad