Tissue & Bubble-Wrapped Memories
As soon as the remnants of Thanksgiving dinner are packed away in Tupperware containers, my mind turns to Christmas. Traditionally on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Scott, our two boys, and I visit the local tree lot to choose the perfect Christmas tree. Scott trims the lower branches, fits the trunk into the stand, and with a little help hauls the tree into the house.
Then the fun begins. After twenty-five years of marriage, there are a lot of ornaments. Each speaks of a bygone time, when Scott and I were first married, when each child joined our family, memories of happy and difficult times. Like the tiny, red apple with “Scott loves Becky” printed across it. A fond memory of when my dear husband helped me write the names of all my students, two kindergarten classes, on apples as gifts. Then he made a special one for me. Others are of sad times. The heart inscribed with “Love” and the star, “Faith”. Each was chosen to describe Grandpa Doc by the boys the first Christmas without him after a long struggle with cancer.
The homemade decorations from Advent celebrations at church and Sunday school are always added to the tree. Popsicle stick stars dipped in glue and glitter, painted dough handprints, twisted red and white pipe cleaner candy canes, and paper plate angels. Each one is a memory, complete with the artist’s name scrawled in crayon.
The tree decorating can get silly with peals of laughter as the phases of the boys’ interests through the years are depicted in their choice of ornaments. There was the year of the “diggers and dump trucks” with a bulldozer to hang on the tree. They chose tiny Matchbox cars to clip to the branches during the racecar phase. The Hallmark speedboat my youngest had to have because it was his favorite color is always prominently displayed. And then there was the Star Wars year. Yoda always seems to always find a place on the tree.
The nativity ornaments are the most precious to me. One by Tomie dePaola a student gave me when I was expecting my first child. The highly polished wooden manger scene a friend gave me from the Holy Land. The darling miniature bunny hangs with wings and a halo peering into the manger to see the Holy Child. The most special is an intricately carved Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus found in a tiny woodcarver’s shop next to the Silent Night Chapel in Oberndorf, Austria. Two similar ornaments are carefully stored with the Christmas decorations for the boys to one day have for their own trees to remember our special family trip.
As each memory is unwrapped, my family revisits Christmas past. With steaming mugs of cocoa and a roaring fire, the four of us tell stories, laugh, and sing Christmas carols. Traditions bind families together. Sometime in the not too distant future each one of my sons will be starting traditions of his own, maybe with his own family. And just maybe, memories around a box of tissue and bubble-wrapped ornaments
They celebrate your abundant goodness
and joyfully sing of your righteousness.
Psalm 145:7
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©2014 Becky Danielson. All rights reserved.
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