This morning could be an early spring day, if I didn’t know better. The earth is dampish, there is a soft mist in the air, I see smoke rising from where my neighbor just started a fire in her fireplace, and the temperature is 34. But, judging from the forecast, Wednesday or Thursday we will know for a certainty that spring is not here and the season is truly winter! I’d better prepare myself for a cold blast from the north.
I’ve been slowly decorating my Christmas tree. Sara put up the tree, fluffed some branches, and wondered why the lights get all tangled from year to year. I’ve begun putting on the ornaments but still have a long way to go. My tree is never the beautiful piece of art that is an eye-catching work of beautiful, precise bows or birds or other lovely decorations. I always admire those trees and think that maybe someday I’ll have one that is symmetrical and gorgeous too. But no, my tree is a hodgepodge of–guess what–memories!
First come the white crocheted snowflakes my mother made years ago, carefully stored in small boxes from year to year. I tatted a snowflake to add to that group so I store it away with hers, after Christmas. The Santas with the lo-0-ong white beards began life as seed pods from a ketalpa tree that grew in Mom and Dad’s yard and was knocked down by a storm. Colorful ornaments that Matt made in kindergarten or with my mother, hang on the limbs. A few are ornaments that Sara or Nathan made and I have many that my kindergarteners gave me through the years. One is a gift from a little girl who was five when she gave it to me, that long ago Christmas. She was a tiny, blond girl who stood up to a bully twice her size, and he never bothered her again. That little girl has been a grown woman for many years now but I still remember.
My dear friend Linda gave me a tiny teddy bear and also a miniature book of Christmas songs that goes on the tree each year. Her grandchildren have given me some ornaments which I place on the tree and wish Linda could see them. And my sister Helen made a walnut-shell strawberry and also latch-hooked a beautiful Christmas tree skirt of red poinsettias on a green background. My tree wouldn’t be complete without it. My niece Sue Ann painted a small wooden Santa which goes up each season. And, each year Sara and Nathan give an ornament to Mem which I treasure.
So, putting up my tree is a mixture of emotions; some, happy and even funny, some, I have to confess, a bit sad. I’m glad that Sara and Nathan are near-by, bringing life and joy and anticipation to the Christmas season. If I were tucked away in a cottage somewhere by myself with nothing but memories, I might have a tendency to wrap reminisces around me and forget that the real reason for the season is the incredible gift of God’s Son to all of us on earth.
But, even though the morning seems to be hanging onto spring, I know that winter is just around the corner. So, I decorate the tree knowing that Christmas can’t be far behind, and being glad and thankful for many, many things, especially for those two grandchildren who somehow are a bridge between yesterday’s memories and tomorrow’s possibilities. And, while taking a glance behind me, I look forward with a glad and thankful heart.
seed pod Santa
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