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Unlike so many times before, this wasn’t<br />
something I had purchased myself, then<br />
wrapped, and placed under the tree with a<br />
tiny gift card in my own handwriting that said,<br />
“To: Mary Ann, From: G’mama.” This was an<br />
actual surprise! When I turned to her, she just<br />
stood there, waiting, with a childlike twinkle in<br />
her own eye.<br />
I ripped the paper off of it like a six-year<br />
old. And much to my astonishment, it was a<br />
big, white, fluffy, teddy bear with a red knit hat<br />
and scarf. What in the world? For the life of<br />
me I couldn’t imagine what possessed her to<br />
buy it. It was so completely uncharacteristic–<br />
not to mention, I was grown!<br />
But I didn’t care why. I loved it. That<br />
moment captured and resurrected a magic<br />
that had been missing on Christmas morning<br />
for many years. I think it did the same for her,<br />
too. We both squealed out loud and continued<br />
to giggle throughout the day.<br />
That bear served as a perfect reminder that<br />
no matter where life takes you, or what life’s<br />
circumstances deal you, it’s important to keep<br />
the child-like magic of Christmas near. To this<br />
day, I still have it.<br />
✧ ✧ ✧<br />
So now, every mid-November, we pull<br />
down an eight-foot artificial tree out of our<br />
own attic–the very same tree that my<br />
grandmother had in her home. The kitchen<br />
table wasn’t the only thing I inherited. And<br />
while this one continues to show its age, and<br />
I’ve threatened to get a new one a dozen<br />
times, I never do. I’m not sure I can.<br />
I’m keenly aware that the very things we<br />
are doing in our home, my son may someday<br />
do for his own children. I’ve tried to be very<br />
deliberate in that regard. Intentional.<br />
Nearly all the ornaments on our tree<br />
reference a specific time in our lives or a<br />
vacation that we took together. And, as has<br />
become tradition, we get a new blown-glass<br />
ornament every year. We have dozens of<br />
them. There’s a football, a baseball, and a<br />
buffalo marking our trip to the Grand Canyon.<br />
We have Yoda as a nod to our Star Wars<br />
phase, Lilly and Lucy–our beloved dogs that<br />
have gone before us, and Thomas the Tank<br />
Engine. We have a blown-glass peanut to<br />
celebrate our fall peanut boils and now, in<br />
addition, I pull out all our stuffed animal<br />
friends to mark yet another special season<br />
in life that has passed but is not forgotten–<br />
my own white teddy bear being one of them.<br />
These things are important, regardless of age,<br />
and provide comfort and special memories<br />
for our family.<br />
Turns out, Christmas was never about<br />
“stuff.” It’s about memories–childhood<br />
memories that never fade. When all our kids<br />
are grown and gone and making their own<br />
memories, they may not remember the<br />
specific gifts they got–but they’ll remember<br />
the tree, and who was around it. And the<br />
smells. And how they felt. And all the love<br />
that was shared–at Christmas. l<br />
48 • November 2018