Saturday, December 19, 2015
The Christmas Passed to Me
My mom always made Christmas special for me and my brothers.
As we were growing up.
The Christmas trees that came from my uncle Horace & Marvin's place in Greenville.
Loading them with ornaments mom collected through the years.
That green jello recipe she made with nuts & pineapple & marshmallows.
Mounds of made from scratch sugar cookie dough in the frig.
Carefully wrapped in wax paper.
My grandma Robertson's candied yams swimming in a sea of butter on the stove.
My grandma Lila's made from scratch biscuits.
Rolled out with a rolling pin.
She always let me have the edges left from the round biscuit cutter.
She also had this spectacular artificial Christmas tree.
With a rotating color wheel that sat in front of it.
Turning the silver tree red.....then green.....then blue.
It's funny what sticks with me.
Christmas plays at church.
Socials that time of year in the community building.
Piling into the back of our station wagon.
To go caroling with the kids I grew up with in church.
My oldest brother, Scott, waking us up at 3 or 4 a.m. to open presents.
The anticipation of Christmas morning.
When the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas seemed like an eternity.
When I was a kid,
Mom always made Christmas special.
And it was a wonderful gift to me.
I know I'm fortunate to have those kind of memories.
I've lived long enough to know.
That not everyone does.
My girls are grown now.
And this is the very first Christmas.
Scott & I have no children living at home.
Oh, they'll be back on Christmas Eve.
And my mom will be here too.
It is different.
It has changed.
The thing about change.
It's a guarantee.
Can still be good.
Plenty of ways God can use me.
Plenty of people I can choose to invest in.
Plenty of ways to honor the true meaning of Christmas.
My life is full.
I am thankful.
Not just for what's behind me.
But what's here today.
And what's still ahead.
I pray to keep that in mind this Christmas.
And in all my Christmases to come.