Making Merry Memories

I recently made a batch of our family's traditional Santa cookies.  Following in my mom's and Grandma's footsteps, I carefully followed all of the directions-although my cookies never quite turn out as good as Mom's.  How they turn out really doesn't matter to me, though.  Its following the tradition and the enjoyment of making them each year.  This year the snow was blowing horribly outside, and I hurried to finish the baking part before the afternoon milking.  While I worked and watched the driveway drift shut I remembered some of my favorite Christmas's from the past.  Although some of the gifts were pretty great, my best memories are the things that we did. This makes me wonder if our focus is all wrong.  The special things we do with the kids often come after all the other "stuff".  After we get the cookies done, after we get the shopping done, after we get the house cleaned, after we get the laundry done, after we get the chores done-sometimes there's so many "afters" we never get to the special things.  Here's some memories that are pretty special to me....

In first grade my mom and dad put the Christmas tree in the middle of the dining room.  They tied it to the top of the light and you could walk all the way around it.  It was awesome.  That year I had a horrible time waiting to open gifts.  On Christmas Eve, because I was SO desperate, my oldest sister handed me a gift from her, and said I could open it.  It was a small porcelain panda figurine.  I still have it.  After that year, we started opening gifts from each other on Christmas Eve, a tradition that we do with our kids now.

One Christmas Eve, after all the presents had been opened and most the food gone, we went cross country skiing.  The conditions were perfect, the moon was bright, and not a car in sight.  We went up and down Colony rd and looked at the lights.  The calm and peacefulness is unexplainable.   Its hard to put your finger on the kind of special that is Christmas Eve.

Another year my oldest sister put together 1/2 peck size bags of fruit.  Late into the night, after our party was over, we piled in the car and anonymously hung bags of fruit on people's doors.  We'd knock or ring the door bell and run away to the waiting get-a-way car.  Oh what fun that was!  A friend of mine at school the next week made sure I knew that she knew that it was us.  I think she missed the point-sometimes for the sake of other people's feelings it's just better to not be "right".  Sometimes reveling surprises wrecks it more for the giver than the receiver.

Around middle school it was decided that we would attend the neighboring church's midnight Christmas Eve service.  We arrived at 11pm and sat two or three rows up from the back.  The bulletin listed all the songs, some with asterisks besides them, indicating that you should stand.  When it came time to sing the second song, our whole pew stood.  There must have been some sort of miscommunication between the worship leader and the bulletin printer, because we were the only ones.  S l o w l y we sat down  as we realized the situation.  I almost busted out laughing...then and when I think about it today!

Shortly after we got married, my mom needed help bringing her star down from the top of their 100+ft. silo to rewire it.  Rick climbed all the way to the top (it has a caged ladder), and begin to lower the star down with a rope and a hook.  Now if any of you are fans of the TV show The Price is Right, you'll know exactly what I mean when I say the minute that star came unhooked, it was like Plinko x100!  It clanged and clinked as it hit the caged ladder and fell half way down the silo.  We were able to bend it back into shape-sort of-for that year, but I can still here it clear as the day is bright when I remember that falling star.

Our first Christmas Eve as farm owners Rick and I opened a box from my sister and brother in law. It had a poem in it that went like this:
Star light,
Star bright,
First star I see tonight:
(Something, something)
(Something, something)
Out back behind the garage.
For those of you who enjoy the star on our silo, you can really thank my brother-in-law. He made it. And I love it.

We've had a multitude of very creative gifts over the years, but I'll never forget my senior year of high school.  I told mom and dad I wanted a tool box for the bed of my truck.  They said that was too expensive. I knew it was, but it really was what I wanted, I wasn't going to lie.  However, I wasn't counting on one at all.  Very early on Christmas morning, my mom yells up the stairs, in a not very Christmas-y type voice.  Almost out of breath, like.  I came down and there on the kitchen entry way rug was a tool box, with a can black spray paint taped to the top!  Unbelievable!  I never even noticed that Jack (the neighbor farmer) had gotten a new silver plated tool box until his old one turned up in mom and dad's kitchen.  I never even cared that it leaked a little bit.  I had the coolest truck EVER. On this side of 127, at least :)

Of course, the most important thing about Christmas is the gift of Jesus.  That is a kind of love bigger than any anonymous bag of fruit or bright shining star.  Although we can never match the gift of Jesus, we can do our best by focusing on the things that really matter-people.  Spend some quality time with people that matter to you. The memories might not always be perfect, but those are usually the best ones.

-Merry Christmas
-Terri