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Unlike so many times before, this wasn’t
something I had purchased myself, then
wrapped, and placed under the tree with a
tiny gift card in my own handwriting that said,
“To: Mary Ann, From: G’mama.” This was an
actual surprise! When I turned to her, she just
stood there, waiting, with a childlike twinkle in
her own eye.
I ripped the paper off of it like a six-year
old. And much to my astonishment, it was a
big, white, fluffy, teddy bear with a red knit hat
and scarf. What in the world? For the life of
me I couldn’t imagine what possessed her to
buy it. It was so completely uncharacteristic–
not to mention, I was grown!
But I didn’t care why. I loved it. That
moment captured and resurrected a magic
that had been missing on Christmas morning
for many years. I think it did the same for her,
too. We both squealed out loud and continued
to giggle throughout the day.
That bear served as a perfect reminder that
no matter where life takes you, or what life’s
circumstances deal you, it’s important to keep
the child-like magic of Christmas near. To this
day, I still have it.
✧ ✧ ✧
So now, every mid-November, we pull
down an eight-foot artificial tree out of our
own attic–the very same tree that my
grandmother had in her home. The kitchen
table wasn’t the only thing I inherited. And
while this one continues to show its age, and
I’ve threatened to get a new one a dozen
times, I never do. I’m not sure I can.
I’m keenly aware that the very things we
are doing in our home, my son may someday
do for his own children. I’ve tried to be very
deliberate in that regard. Intentional.
Nearly all the ornaments on our tree
reference a specific time in our lives or a
vacation that we took together. And, as has
become tradition, we get a new blown-glass
ornament every year. We have dozens of
them. There’s a football, a baseball, and a
buffalo marking our trip to the Grand Canyon.
We have Yoda as a nod to our Star Wars
phase, Lilly and Lucy–our beloved dogs that
have gone before us, and Thomas the Tank
Engine. We have a blown-glass peanut to
celebrate our fall peanut boils and now, in
addition, I pull out all our stuffed animal
friends to mark yet another special season
in life that has passed but is not forgotten–
my own white teddy bear being one of them.
These things are important, regardless of age,
and provide comfort and special memories
for our family.
Turns out, Christmas was never about
“stuff.” It’s about memories–childhood
memories that never fade. When all our kids
are grown and gone and making their own
memories, they may not remember the
specific gifts they got–but they’ll remember
the tree, and who was around it. And the
smells. And how they felt. And all the love
that was shared–at Christmas. l
82 • DECEMBER 2020