Christmas. CHRISTmas. Christmas.
I think about the last 27 times I've gotten to celebrate it. That's a lot to me. Maybe not to someone who's 75 years old...but really. As I think about today, I'm reminded of why this day is so special. It could be the food. It could be the neat gifts. It could be the tradition of Santa Claus and how each morning, as a child, I would haul it to the living room to see what toys were under the tree. It could be the cool air, the music, the smiles on everyone's faces. But it's not. Its the fact that no matter what's going on in your life, you stop and make time for those that you love. Even wal-mart closes. Come on people.
My dad was a jeweler when I was growing up. Christmas time meant he was scarce around our house and we would always wait on Christmas eve (the night that we would celebrate with his side of the family) until my dad would arrive. Sometimes it was 10 pm before he got there. But he always did get there. And he always arrived with something so special. When I was 10 years old, it was $100. Now, $100 to a 10 year old is a lot. I mean, I thought I could buy a house. When I was 17 years old, it was a cell phone, and that took the cake. And now that he's no longer here, I am reminded what this day is all about. Not too long ago I was also reminded. When I was faced with the reality of not having my mom here too. It was like a light switch, but for whatever reason after so much trauma to her heart, God felt like she was still meant to stay here. And I got her back. And I'm reminded again, of what today is about.
My grandma Marcia (my mom's mom) made us all Felt Christmas Stockings to hang during Christmas time. We always had fireworks stuffed in them. And now that we're older, those stockings hang at my moms. My grandma Marcia still makes them, they're great as ever. I thought that this year, I'd make one for BK3, and start the tradition in my home. I ordered his on December 1st. Now, how hard could it be? It's a kit. I'm sure it's got pieces and such, but surely, can't be too hard. I 'm crafty. Well, needless to say the ziploc bag arrived with about 8 pages of colored felt, 6 colors of beads and sequins, and a giant wad of thread. Not to mention the 6 pages of LEGAL size instructions on how to thread a needle, embroider, applique, chord....wait chord?...and make a pom pom. Yeah, this may not be easy. and surely it wasn't. No glue involved. Just hand sewing, every sequin, every bead, every edge to every felt piece (that needed to be cut out, by the way). I got to work and every night once I got home from work, I worked on it. Sometimes until 1 a.m. Tuesday of last week, I came home from the grocery to see that Roxie had found the stocking project and made it her latest chew toy. I was mortified, and it took everything I had not to take her out back and get revenge. I held back tears, beat the dog, and got back to work on piecing it back together. I didn't finish this stocking until 3:00 a.m. Christmas Morning. I was determined to finish it because this is my little Boy. Although he has no clue what this stocking is or means, it's his. I'm mom. And this is our first Christmas together. It's my first chance to be me, his mom, and do everything to make his day special. That stocking was part of it.
While I was working on it some nights, it reminded me of how hard my parents must have worked for me and my brother. We didn't have much to brag about. Roller Skates or a chalk board were my most memorable Santa Gifts. But we still couldn't wait to see what it was each year. And I know my parents cared so much. My dad would walk in just before midnight, on 48 hours of no sleep, with a smile on his face. One year, he walked in dressed as Santa. Really...I complain about a 7 hour teaching day. Here he was, with not much to spend, and not an ounce of rest. But going that extra mile for me and my brother. My mom and dad both did. It makes me want to work my tail off for this li'l pumpkin. To be the best I can be for him. These holidays make it tough without my dad, and without Daddy Brannan's Dad. Because that part I keep being reminded about? It's the family that you cherish and the God that you serve. The songs that you sing together and the stories that you tell when you all are at the dinner table....even though it's the SAME EXACT story you guys told the year before. It's just as funny. And nobody cares. Because the moment you all share is what's most important. The dinner table. On Christmas. Where it's hard not to have a smile. Unless you're remembering someone you miss. And it's impossible not to miss - because again. The part we love so much about this time of year is the memories we make. The love we share. The stockings we hang. The traditions we create and remember for forever. The stories we tell. The family that we'll never forget.
I guess that's the best thing about having an angel to watch over you. My dad will never be late to another Christmas Eve. He's the guest of honor, and always on time. As sad as it could become, he's the center of each story told and I know that's God's way of showing me that he's still here. To remind me to work hard. To never give up. To love my little boy the most in life. To appreciate. And to thank God for every moment I have with His gracious love and the people who make my life complete.
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