This fall has been a very trying time for our
family in what could be appropriately called a season of death. My Dad died in an accident in his home at the
end of August and my father-in-law passed away in mid October just weeks shy of
his 100th birthday. Christmas
has been a little strange this year with both Dads being gone. It's not
that they are missed because it's “Christmas;” neither one spent Christmases with
our family. It’s more that Christmas
seems to be a benchmark time of the year. Just about everybody worldwide
celebrates/recognizes the day. I think it's a day of reflection more than
most other holidays. Last Christmas Dad was alive and well and working at
a contract engineering job. My father-in-law was in the hospital after
hip surgery and baffling the doctors who couldn't believe a 99 year old was as
resilient as he was. This Christmas they are both gone, and we are down
to just our immediate family.
Just as the Christmas season was starting this
year, we were returning from an almost month-long trip to clean up my parent’s
things. I had spent days and days
digging through their belongings trying to decide what were the true treasures
that I wanted to keep; knowing that so much would have to be sold and all I’d
be left with were the memories. Limited
time and space gave me encouragement to decide what things were most important.
We returned home just in time to meet the
Christmas season head on and in full swing.
So, like most of the fall, Christmas seemed a little rushed this
year. Late Christmas Eve afternoon I
rolled out a new recipe for gingerbread cookies, just in time to have cookies
for Santa. The three oldest children helped cut the cookies into
gingerbread men, stars, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. Christmas night I read
a story to my 4-year old daughter while she was curled up in my lap, finishing
her Christmas cookie. I asked her what she liked best about the treat.
She thought a minute and then quietly sighed and said, "It smells like
Mommy." I had to think about that one, then I realized it was the
most wonderful thing she could have said. For her it was a combination of
the making of the cookies with Mommy and her liking the taste. I doubt in
years to come that she’ll remember what she did or didn’t get for Christmas
this year, but I hope when she smells gingerbread cookies baking, she'll have something
more important, a treasured memory of this Christmas with her family. I
know I will.
After I tucked my oldest daughter into bed, my
1 year old was fussy (cutting a tooth), so I wrapped her in her blanket and
settled in the recliner in front of the Christmas tree. We rocked quietly
for a long time, until I finally started to see her eyes close when she just
couldn't keep them open to look at the tree any longer. She heaved a sigh
and settled her head against my chest as she fell asleep. Of all the
gifts that were given and received this year, that precious time snuggling the
baby was my true treasure of Christmas.
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