THE MEMORIES CHRISTMAS BRINGS

Another Christmas has passed, almost.  Epiphany is three days away.  Then all the decorations and the tree will be put away until another year. As I carefully wrap fragile ornaments and recall that this one came from my childhood, memories of Christmases past flood my mind.  The good is mixed with the bad just like that annual can of hard candy--some sweet and others with a funny medicinal taste. Memories from childhood are the sweet ones, most of the time.  I still remember the Christmas I found out the truth about Santa Claus but the "good little girl" in me kept it a secret until a few years back.  My parents never knew.  There are too many memories in my adult years that were the sour ones-the ones you tried to forget but your mind would always keep just enough to remind you of the harsh words, the unwrapped "bought at a yard sale" gift from a vindictive in-law, or worse yet-no gift.  When I think of those insults they pale compared to harsh words from loved ones.  Words cannot be taken back to the store and exchanged.  But then there are the sweet memories--coming across an unbreakable ornament that was bought the Christmas the twins were learning to walk, the homemade sheep, fat with cotton balls made lovingly by a grandchild and the ornament dated 1996, the first Christmas George and I were married.

The sounds of Christmas are memory joggers.  I hear "The First Noel" and I think of all the wonderful choirs I've had the privilege to hear..the many church programs where so much time and love went into the productions.  I remember the butterflies in my stomach before I had to say my "piece" in the Sunday School program.  I can hear my Mom in the kitchen, the whir of the mixer as she mixes the batter for her wonderful baked goods. I hear he stamp of my Dad's boots as he knocks off the snow before bringing that aromatic cedar tree into the living room.  Mom turns off the mixer, grabs a broom to sweep up the trash falling from the tree, chastising my Dad the whole time she is sweeping. Oh, the sounds of Christmas.

Coming from the South, I must mention the food of Christmas.  In my memoir, "Trunk Tales." I wrote a story titled Christmas in the Country. I mention that food takes the center stage.  The women have spent the summer harvesting from their gardens the wonderful foods served at Christmas.  They spent time canning, drying and pickling in order to have these bountiful feasts.  I say feasts because the week after Christmas was spent in gong to a different home every evening for a 'Christmas meal.'  How wonderful was that?  Each hostess varied her menu just enough to make it enticing.  Everyone had their specialities.  To name a few; fruit cake, pound cake, dried apple cake, boiled custard, ambrosia and ham biscuits.  The list goes on and on. Delicious memories!

How can we as grandparents fail to mention the love in our hearts as we spend Christmas with our grandchildren?  They bring us back to the real meaning of Christmas....love. Wasn't the Christ Child a gift of God's love to mankind?  Sometimes we do forget.


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