She has seen every Christmas morning in our house since the children were bouncing squiggles of excitement.
She's watched our family and listened as we have lived our lives up to and following the Big Day - seen how we struggle to keep peace between ourselves, seen how we cope with upsets and setbacks, and endured our choice of TV programming. (After all, how many times can one watch "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"?)
She is our Christmas angel tree-topper. Year after year she has presided over the good and the not-so-good. Constant and true, she has held her two lights up high for all who would look. Regardless of the quality of our decorating, she has provided the graceful piece de resistance, covering a multitude of patently untalented decorators' sins.
Robed in colors of gold and crimson and white, she is a continual reminder of the original Reason for the Season... an object lesson of the constancy and the ever-watchful, ever-loving eye of the One whose birth we choose to celebrate at this time of year. Even when circumstances don't seem particularly joyful. Or joyful at all.
She was there the day that - because of a poorly balanced tree - our eldest bore the brunt of the imbalance and the tree fell on top of her. We were grateful our little girl was not hurt! Ever afterward, we took special care to completely balance the tree so that it was perfectly upright.
She was there, keeping silent vigil, as our feeble gifts to one another ... in rich times and in poor ... reminded us that we were loved much, that there were people in this world who believed in us, who supported us and our dreams, who suffered with us as we grieved the physical absence of those greatly loved ones no longer among us.
She listened every Christmas morning to each of us as we took a turn reading the Christmas story, transported back to the hills and caves around Bethlehem right along with us, and she heard us sing Happy Birthday Jesus as a family (a song that still brings tears to my eyes and a catch in my voice) ... right before opening our gifts. She has been witness to the oohs and ahs of surprise and wonder - and to our frantic scramble to dispose of the wrappings after all was said and done, the smells of cooking turkey, and the laughter and "happy tears" of friends and family as we shared each other's company.
Tragedies and triumphs, joys and regrets, love expressed, memories made. She's seen it all for the last twenty-odd years.
If she could talk... I wonder what she'd say.
She's watched our family and listened as we have lived our lives up to and following the Big Day - seen how we struggle to keep peace between ourselves, seen how we cope with upsets and setbacks, and endured our choice of TV programming. (After all, how many times can one watch "The Grinch that Stole Christmas"?)
 |
| Christmas 2012 treetopper - taken today |
She is our Christmas angel tree-topper. Year after year she has presided over the good and the not-so-good. Constant and true, she has held her two lights up high for all who would look. Regardless of the quality of our decorating, she has provided the graceful piece de resistance, covering a multitude of patently untalented decorators' sins.
Robed in colors of gold and crimson and white, she is a continual reminder of the original Reason for the Season... an object lesson of the constancy and the ever-watchful, ever-loving eye of the One whose birth we choose to celebrate at this time of year. Even when circumstances don't seem particularly joyful. Or joyful at all.
She was there the day that - because of a poorly balanced tree - our eldest bore the brunt of the imbalance and the tree fell on top of her. We were grateful our little girl was not hurt! Ever afterward, we took special care to completely balance the tree so that it was perfectly upright.
She was there, keeping silent vigil, as our feeble gifts to one another ... in rich times and in poor ... reminded us that we were loved much, that there were people in this world who believed in us, who supported us and our dreams, who suffered with us as we grieved the physical absence of those greatly loved ones no longer among us.
She listened every Christmas morning to each of us as we took a turn reading the Christmas story, transported back to the hills and caves around Bethlehem right along with us, and she heard us sing Happy Birthday Jesus as a family (a song that still brings tears to my eyes and a catch in my voice) ... right before opening our gifts. She has been witness to the oohs and ahs of surprise and wonder - and to our frantic scramble to dispose of the wrappings after all was said and done, the smells of cooking turkey, and the laughter and "happy tears" of friends and family as we shared each other's company.
Tragedies and triumphs, joys and regrets, love expressed, memories made. She's seen it all for the last twenty-odd years.
If she could talk... I wonder what she'd say.
No comments:
Post a Comment