Christmas evokes such memories for all of us I believe. Some of them good memories some of them difficult, some of them sad memories, but memories nonetheless. When I was a child I remember the rituals of Christmas so well. I remember the Christmas Eve Services (usually two of them one for families and another one that the youth led concluding at midnight–it was difficult to stay up for that one but it was my favorite.) Sometimes my dad’s parents came to stay with us and when this happened they stayed in my bedroom and that meant that I got to sleep with my older sister upstairs and that was extra special.

Being the baby of the family meant that i was the most excited about Christmas. I was always the first one up on Christmas so I would tiptoe downstairs very quietly so as not to wake anyone else, make sure the tree was lit and then go look in on my grandparents. My grandmother was always awake and she would beckon me to come in and climb into bed with her. She would tell me stories about when my daddy was a little boy and then when he had gone off to Germany during World War II. I listened intently. After she died the same ritual on Christmas would take place I would tiptoe down the stairs, check the tree and then check on my grandfather and remarkably he would also be awake and beckon me to climb into bed with him and he would once again tell me the stories of when my daddy was a little boy and when he had gone off to Germany. After he died I was a little older but still very much enjoyed the ritual of Christmas morning and as I tiptoed down the stairs to check on the Christmas tree I wondered what will I do this year while I wait for everyone else to get up and celebrate this magnificent day? And much to my surprise there was my daddy putting the finishing touches on a beautiful fire and he turned and he said to me, “I’ve been waiting on you! What took you so long?”

I was amazed that he knew because I had never told anyone about the mornings with grandma and grandpa. And so I ran and I cuddled up next to him and he told me the stories of when he was a little boy and when he had gone off to Germany and when he married my mom and when my brothers and sister were younger. And we did this for years and years.

In December of 1999 I decided to write the story of these adventures and give them to my daddy in the form of a book. I hand wrote it for him. Jim Freeman made the paper and bound the book and we gave it to him for Christmas.

He treasured this book. My family gave it back to me last year after his death.

I posted on Facebook that I can only imagine that the three of them are happily sitting around a fireplace in heaven this year sharing the stories of old…but I must say that there must be a heavenly host gathered around because they were great story tellers. And this makes me very happy this Christmas.

Whatever your Christmas memories may you find some joy and peace and comfort through this season and this coming year. Once more “tripping into grace”…debbie

 

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