I know that some of you, my friends, had difficult Christmases to face this year. Well, you aren’t alone. The continuity is that Christmas comes every year. My memories are scattered all over my tree in representative ornaments, and my external hard drives and photo albums are full of Christmas pictures. Proof that it comes every year. Proof that even in bad times, there can be, there must be, Christmas.

I am crazy about my family. I am crazy about Christmas. I always want to give my family the best memories possible. As a child, it never crossed my mind to wonder if my parents had any expectations about Christmas. But, I don’t really think they did. Things were simple, easy, and my brother and I were grateful for whatever came during the holy season.

Through the years, I have had my own expectations of Christmas. It is amazing how those expectations have changed as our family degenerated. I used to expect that my children would enjoy Christmas, that all the toys would actually work, that the family dinner would turn out perfectly, and that the weather wouldn’t hamper our plans to visit our family in another state. As our children left home and married, I expected them to come to the family gathering, to be on time, and I expected the meal, now larger, to be enjoyable. As we began to be blessed with grandchildren, we expected to see their shining faces opening presents under our family tree. We expected to get to play with their new toys with them and to read them the books we had given them. We expected nothing from them except to just be with them and give them our love in hugs, kisses, and presents. These are simple expectations, right? Wrong!

Through a series of painfully difficult situations, I have learned over the years to keep my expectations for Christmas very low. But, always the fool, I did it again. I set myself up for disappointment this year by expecting anything.

Our family was established in 1973 when Paul and I married. We have been a family for 36 years. Continuity. But one part of our family can no longer accept that. The choice is the “old” family or the “new” family. Plans were being formed for Christmas, but as always, I have to figure things out on my own and at the last second. Little did I know that what was being said to me was not what was really happening. “I want to have the 3 oldest grandkids for a sleepover and a cookie-baking marathon.” Instead of saying, “That sounds like fun,” the real answer should have been, “Well, that might not happen.” I could have lived with that. But instead, an expectation was established. “Can we please have our family Christmas on Christmas Eve?” Instead of no response whatsoever, the real answer should have been, “No. I have other plans.” Or how about, “I have other plans, but maybe we can come for an hour.” At least then we could have given the girls their presents, even if they didn’t open them then. Instead of responding to my question with, “Yes, you will see the girls and can give them their gifts,” the real answer should have been, “No, I won’t be bringing them to see you at all this Christmas.” And we haven’t seen them.

I was forced to choose an alternate date, which was a very hard one for me to meet. Our original family unit has not been together in the same room for years. That hope alone, the thought that it might actually happen for even a moment, was my greatest disappointment. To my invitation, I never got a response, not even for my granddaughter. The real answer should have been, “No. It isn’t allowed.”

That broken piece of our family unit was put away, and we looked ahead. Because of the shortness of time, I didn’t get everything done so things would be perfect. My house wasn’t as clean as I wanted it. I didn’t get all my decorations up. The food wasn’t as fancy as I wanted it. I didn’t get to have that cookie-baking marathon I was so looking forward to. I wasn’t comfortable with some of the presents I bought. I needed help choosing Christmas gifts. Children in divorced families have so many Christmases, it is impossible not to have duplications. Communication is critical, but there was none.

Guess what. Christmas came. Christmas happened anyway. We truly had a wonderful Christmas full of family fun. We had all boys since the girls weren’t allowed to participate. That was awesome! Our events for the day were catered to boys only. It was a wonderful Christmas celebration with those who choose to be in my family. I posted 134 photos of our fun on Facebook.

Taking down the tree was hard. Christmas wasn’t complete, and those who missed it didn’t even have a choice in the matter. Gifts for 2 granddaughters sit in the corner of my living room. I specifically asked if we would be able to give them, was told yes, so we completed our shopping for them. And there the gifts sit in the corner, unpresented, possibly duplicate gifts. Another chance to grow, right? Moving on.

Every Christmas I find that perfect ornament that symbolizes the year. One of my favorites is a little tray with 2 plates of cookies and 2 mugs of cocoa. One mug says Mother, the other says Daughter. That year we were both so hormonal, it was hilarious. She was pregnant; I was starting “the change.” But we both had some of the same symptoms. What a time we had together that year sharing secrets, hot Krispy Kreme donuts, and carmel macchiatos. My friend, Ellen, has said repeatedly that she can’t wait to see what my ornament is for this year. It has been a year of healing for me. Guess what, Ellen? There won’t be one. This is the first year we have missed having Christmas with a family member, especially a grandchild. So this year’s ornament will be permanently missing as well. A hole in my collection.

I have a broken ornament that, I think, means more to me broken than it did whole. I haven’t even tried to repair it. Given to me by a family member, it is a simple plastic ornanment that spells out the word joy. It broke between the O and the Y, so the 2 parts hang loosely on a single plastic thread. How symbolic that is to me! Even broken, joy is still joy. You just can’t get past that. Joy to the world! Christmas is about God sending His Son to save us. Joy! It is about celebrating that event and the effect it had on an entire world. Who knows this better than we who, with God’s help, have survived difficult times?

I can’t save my family. I can’t even help myself. My help (and yours) comes from the Lord. THAT is the focus of Christmas. Not the love and hopes for my family, not my expectations, not my desires. Just celebrating the only thing in this life that is eternal. So much has been stripped away from me that I can now see more clearly. I may never have peace with my family, or restoration. Ok. But I do have the peace of God in me, and that is all I can answer for. Christmas future? Well, that remains to be seen. Only God has any answers whatsoever.

I basically grew up downtown since my parents had a business there. The shoe shop was on a side street just a few doors down from the main avenue. I knew that I was finally growing up when my mother allowed me to go roam the avenue alone. Those were the days when everything important was downtown. The banks. The big Post Office with marble floors and gold twistie combination keys on the glass fronts of post office boxes. Hunt’s Department Store had its bargain basement. Then there was the Boston Store. We didn’t shop there much. The bread bakery. Oh how I loved being downtown when they were baking. Cities just don’t smell like that any more. Further down was the cracker factory (not THAT one but Wortz Cracker Factory). In my senior year of high school I had a wonderful encounter with Mr. Wortz himself. But that’s another memory. Even Sears and Montgomery Ward were still downtown. But my favorite stores were McCrory and Woolworth, the quintessential five-and-dimes complete with the-real-deal soda fountains. High ceilings, ancient wooden floors. Aisles jammed with makeup and accessories and kitchenware and clothing and anything else you could think of. I think I learned a lot about life by just browsing the wide, wooden shelves of the old five-and-dimes.

With the exception of the banks and Post Office, all those business are gone. Some were ravaged by cultural changes and the advent of the mall and WalMart; others were ravaged by the 1996 F5 tornado that leveled one end of downtown near the river. That’s a whole ‘nuther blog post.

As a child growing up in the 50s and 60s, Christmas was a magical time. The city decorated “the avenue” fabulously. Giant nutcracker soldiers stood on the sidewalks and super-sized snowflake lights hung over the street. The store windows up and down the long avenue were filled with enchanting scenes that would never give Macy’s any competition, but yet were wonderful. My family would bundle up and brave the cold one night after closing the store to walk the avenue and take in all the wonder. The five-and-dime stores hung garland and snow flakes above the shiny, chrome stools of the soda fountains. You could hear jing-jing-jing-jing heralding the Santa mobile as it softly whooshed by. The cigar-shaped Christmas vehicle (sort of like the Oscar Mayer weiner mobile) held Santa Claus and a dozen or so children/parents as it took them on a magical tour. Christmas music played on a loud speaker, but the thing I remember most is the sound of jingles as it approached. And yes, I was a proud rider of the Santa mobile. My church, a beautiful old 4-story building, was also downtown. In the winter the gas heater would overtake the sanctuary, so the mammoth windows were opened a few inches. I remember sitting in church on Wednesday nights in December listening to the jing-jing-whoosh of the Santa mobile as it went by. That made me happy, too, just to hear it.

The Christmas parade was a sight to behold. It was a very long one with many marching bands, floats, and of course, Santa at the end riding on the fire engine. Who knows….in the crowd on the curb, maybe I even stood next to my future husband! The entire season was just plain fun.

Christmas was simple, yet precious. My brother and I didn’t get a ton of presents, but just enough. Something we really wanted, perhaps a game, and something practical. Our Christmas stockings were our own socks. I never did have big feet so I convinced my mom to let us use my dad’s old socks. We woke up on Christmas morning with those socks bulging to the gills with apples, oranges, nuts, chocolates; I don’t even remember what else. I wasn’t a big fan of apples and oranges were messy, but something about them just being there every year was a big comfort to me. Memories. Stability. Continuity.

Once I had the Scripture selected, I knew what I wanted to do with it. The problem was, how to do it? After much thought, trial, and error, I came up with an execution which included duct tape, T-pins, straight pins, staples, and anything else I could find to secure the thing to my cubicle wall. I prayed it would stay up long enough to be judged.

I started by carving a heart from a styrofoam disk, then covered the heart with a fabric “appliqued” manger scene. From the heart “grew” many branches which I covered with wallet-sized photographs attached with teeny clothespins.

It made a very different-looking Christmas display, to be sure. But the symbolism was highly personal, not just to me, but to others who viewed it. A friend, who is just recently back at work after nearly dying from cancer, stood in my office and wept when I explained it to her. God loved us so much (heart) that He gave His son (manger scene) who became the vine, and we are the branches. Pinned to my branches were representations of my abundant life. I used my die cutter to create the Scripture letters, then glued them to wire-trimmed red ribbon. This picture is only part of my display, but this will give you an idea of what I’m trying to explain. (Click photo to enlarge.) And, I won first place–a $50 card to Outback! Of course I had hoped I would win, as did all who participated. But for me, this was an expression that just had to come out. Contest or not. And it is very meaningful to me.

Abundant Life Tree

The original plan included another part to this display, but I quickly ran out of space. I wanted to “close it up” with the cross and some words from the song, “Because He Lives.” “And life is worth the living just because He lives.”

I intend to hang this in my entryway and update my photos throughout this coming year as a visual reminder of everything God has done for me–which is a LOT!

Merry Christmas and abundant life to you all.