Bittersweet Christmas Memories

I will never forget...

*My favorite Christmas tree ornament was an iridescent icicle. I always had to be the one to hang it, and I had to hang it next to the glass door so that the sunlight would come in on it and make it shine. The Christmas before my sister and her husband got married, he was teasing me and said it was his favorite, and he wanted to hang it. So we hung it together. For the next few years, when we decorated the tree, I saved that ornament for when Eric was there, so we could hang it together.

*I don't know how to describe the way I felt the first time I watched "It's A Wonderful Life" all the way through, and comprehended it. Let's just say there were tears.

*Every year when Dad went Christmas shopping, he came home all excited. We knew what he'd been up to when he came in the door singing, "Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane!"

*My most memorable Christmas was the year my dad had a massive heart attack and was in the CICU for Christmas. I was six. It seemed to me that he was in the hospital for months, but I suppose it was really only a couple weeks at most. But I wasn't allowed to see him, because I was too young to visit the CICU. (A couple years ago I found a note I sent him when he was in the hospital, written on my mom's State Farm stationery: bear babby, i love you and i miss you and i want you to come [page break] home. love, kara) I couldn't tell you what I got for Christmas that year, because nothing was as important as the moment my dad walked into the waiting room to see me! I don't think I had ever experienced such happiness as that in my young life. Not only that, he sweet-talked a nurse into letting me go see his room, and the little Christmas tree someone had brought him. My little six-year-old self was beyond thrilled.

*The next year was pretty memorable too. My dad wasn't with us that year, either. There had been terrible flooding in Millington, and several people's homes were flooded. Dad watched us open our Christmas presents, then went to the Baker Community Center to serve lunch and Christmas presents to the people who had lost so much. He was gone all day and into the night. I remember being sad that he wasn't with us, but in hindsight, I learned some important things that day about selflessness and loving thy neighbor.

*Christmas mornings, it was impossible to sleep until 6:00, which is the earliest our parents said we could get up. Then, the sheer torture of waiting while they went to the bathroom, put on robes, etc. We weren't allowed to go into the living room until they were already in there, had Christmas music on the radio, and the lights for the Christmas tree plugged in. Then they could see our faces when we saw what Santa had left us! We would wait at the end of the hall, hopping with excitement. I remember trembling from head to toe with anticipation!

*When my sister had children, we gradually decided that rather than have her kids open their gifts, then have to leave them to go to Granny and Papa's house, we would start going to them. So the tradition began that we would get up Christmas morning, load up the car, and go spend the day there. It's interesting to me how our priorities change over the years. As a child, my excitement on Christmas morning was purely selfish. As I get older, it gets easier to sleep past 6:00. Sure, I still love getting presents (who doesn't?) but the highlight of the day now is having Hannah, Heath, and Gracie climbing over each other to show off their new goodies. I suppose time teaches us that it really IS more blessed to give than receive. I'm almost always the last to finish opening my gifts- I'm too busy delighting in everyone else's excitement. I understand why my parents wanted to be the first in the living room to see our faces light up- it's an incredible thing.