Christmas Memories And the Lessons they Bring

It was three days before Christmas, and the whole family gathered at grandma's house on the farm.

One of the first things, we kids did, was dive for the Christmas tree, to see if we had packages. One package, in particular, attracted my attention.

The previous Christmas, my grandpa asked me what I wanted. That was the first year, such big candy canes came out on the market. I was so fascinated with them. I wanted one, so badly but I guess I put my order in, too late, as it was only two days before the great event. There was no candy cane, that year.

This package was just the right size and shape, to be one of those huge candy canes.
I knew, for sure, grandpa had remembered. I knew, for sure, this was one of those huge candy canes. I also knew for sure, that my little brother would break it.

My little brother was only two, but he was a little terror. If he got the slightest idea that I was protecting something, he would plot and plan until he got his chance to destroy it.

I shoved the package as far out of sight, as possible, buried under other gifts and way to the back of the tree. Just as I was finished, I backed out from under the tree to discover my little brother was right there watching. I threatened his little life, if he touched that package.

With three days to go, how would I be able to keep an eye on him, day and night? I sure tried. Every time I turned around, I found him sliding in, closer to the tree and I had to run to protect my package.

With two days to go, I sneaked a feel and found it was still intact. I sighed with relief and ran off to play but I was nervous about letting him out of my sight. It seemed that at every opportunity, I found him sneaking in, closer to the tree. I knew what he was after and I intended to prevent it.

With one day to go, I again, sneaked into the living room and reached under the tree. It was still safe, still unbroken.

Then the great night arrived and the whole family gathered around. Grandpa appointed me, to hand out the gifts.

Now, I planned to make sure my brother was too busy, to pay attention to my package. I buried him, in his own gifts.

I finally worked my way back, to the secret hiding place, where my special package was. I reached under the tree, to grab my highly prized present, only to feel, through the paper, that it was broken to pieces. Somehow, some way, he had managed to sneak past me. He had succeeded in spoiling my special gift.

Don't let people fool you into thinking a 4 year old cannot have deep feelings. The reason that package was so special, was because my grandpa had remembered me. Now it was spoiled.

I was so angry; I simply laid the package in my brother's lap and said, "Here you go". I turned my back on him, and opened a different gift.

My aunt and mother noticed that it had my name on it, not my brother's and tried to get me to accept it. I cried and said, "He broke it. It was special, until he broke it. He wanted it, let him have it!" I was hurt to the core and even felt badly for grandpa. I am sure; he never understood what had really happened.

I was so wounded; I never ate one bite and never touched the package or any of its contents.

Many years later, I reflected on that event. I have repented of my reactions, a thousand times over, but never told my grandpa about it.

Grandpa is gone now and I am so sorry for what I did. Why did I not just accept the gift and thank my grandpa, instead of being such a brat? Grandpa gave from his heart. Did my little brother spoil that? No, he did not, but I sure did.

Remember that your loved ones will not always be there. The day can come, when you have no possible way to apologize. A gift comes from the heart. Accept it with gratitude.

It's amazing which memories, stand out all through the years.
I was 6 and my little brother 4. My little brother had put up such a fuss, the previous Christmas, because I got a doll and he did not.

For some stupid reason, he got it in his head that what I got, was something for him to covet. So this year, mother got him a doll too. A little boy doll.

We also got our first real riding toys. The kind you could take down the street.

His was a little trike shaped like a farm tractor and mine was a trike with an attached wagon.

I proudly put my doll in the wagon and road gently down the road, while my little brother and the neighbor boy, got into a duel.

Those two boys started at opposite ends of the blocks and road toward each other. They were playing 'chicken'. As soon as my little brother's trike was demolished, he came for mine.

I'll never forget riding like the wind, running from my little brother. If he got a hold of mine, I wouldn't have a trike, any more.

I did win, by the way.

Years later, he did the same thing with bicycles. This time, though, I fell for his lies and he destroyed my bike.

When my little brother was 15, he so desired a weight lifting set for Christmas.

I remember a trip to Sears, downtown and there was the display of weight lifting sets. My little brother hinted and whined and hoped.

A few days later, while my brother was out of the house, daddy dragged in this heavy box. We emptied the box of weights and a bar, and replaced it with rocks until it was about the same weight.

The contents were then hidden under my parents' bed. Inside the box, there was a note saying 'follow the string'. We wrapped the box with care and set it near the Christmas tree.

Later, when my brother came home, he was thrilled. He squeeled, "it's the weight lifting set!" and we all replied, "Nope. It's a box of rocks."

For the next week, we bantered back and forth, as he was convinced he had his weight lifting set and we kept assuring him it was only a box of rocks. He would get frustrated and explaine that it was the right size and shape and was even the right weight. We weren't fooling him-it was his weight lifting set.

We had so much fun with him, that year, continuing to stick with our story that it was nothing more than a box of rocks.

Christmas eve, while he wasn't looking, daddy taped a long piece of string to the box then strung it down the hall and into the master bedroom, leading underneath the bed.

We squeeled and howled and just about busted a gut, when he tore into the package only to reveal......a box of rocks. He turned red in the face and I'd swear was ready to cry, when we brought the note to his attention.

He pounded his way down the hall while we all waited in the livingroom, listening intently. "Aaaaah! I knew it! I knew it!" He was so proud of that weight lifting set. I'd say the love affair lasted about a month. Sigh...

Who knows, maybe we were weird but you know what-these are my memories that carried on through life.

We just couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. My family was a family of cut-ups and jokers. Always laughing, always joking, always finding humor in every day life.

It seems to me, this annual joke started sometime in my early youth, around 8 years old. We just loved putting small gifts in huge boxes. All the better, was a box in a box in a box in a box-as many boxes fitting into boxes, we could find at the time.

This huge box, all wrapped in pretty giftwrap, under the tree. It sure looked impressive. The recipient, never knew what they were in for: the music box, in a box in a box in a box or the ring in the midst of pounds of newspaper.

Sounds nutty but guess which memories have stayed with me all these years. Long ago, I forgot any specific gift I recieved but the laughter and jokes, at Christmas time, make lasting memories.

This particular Christmas will never be forgotten by myself or my daughter. At the time, she was just 15.

This was just after a horrible divorce, while I was still recovering from a still birth and living way out in the country in an old farm house, a mile from the nearest neighbor.

I had no job, my body was refusing to heal faster, blood pressure was through the roof. The only car that had been left for me, was a old sick-o I could never depend on. During the winter, I had to lay a lamp under the hood to keep the battery from freezing, the tires were worn through and every time I hit a puddle of water, it drowned out the points.

It was 15 miles to the nearest small town and 20 miles from the nearest city of any size and there were no jobs to be found, anywhere. Even if I did find a job, I had no idea if that old car would hold up long enough for me to find something better.

There was no income and I was in big trouble. And all just before Christmas. With a 15 year old girl to take care of, I had a lot on my mind.

We had to survive through Christmas, one way or another. The whole world was shutting down for the holidays.

There just happened to be these huge dry weeds, I had seen down the road. Most of them were pretty much a ball shape. I gathered up 3 of them, in varying sizes and took them home.

On the stairs landing, I stacked those dried weeds, the biggest on the bottom and decorated it like a Christmas tree. The darn thing actually looked good!

I disappeared in my room, busy sewing and knitting, to make my daughter some gifts and she disappeared in her room, doing much the same things.

It was just the two of us and we managed to provide each other with pretty packages under the tree.

We dug through old Christmas decorations and decked out the house and we baked. Well, we baked with what ever ingredients we could find. There was little, in the way of food, in the house.

I had given in and applied for food stamps. The very last day of work, at the welfare office, the lady told me she wasn't sure if the food stamps would arrive in time for Christmas. So we didn't know if we would eat or not.

The day before Christmas Eve, the food stamps arrived. So did the local church with boxes and boxes of goodies. So did our own landlord, with grocery bags, straight from the store.

The landlord, our dear friend, drove up just as the church was unloading the last box. He said, "Well, now I feel foolish!" I told him, "Oh, are you kidding? This is amazing and you're a part of it. Did Santa, by any chance, trail along behind you?"

We had, just that day, gone running to the grocery store and stocked up on butter and eggs and milk and well, you know.

That night, my daughter and I rummaged through all the goodies, with wide eyes like little kids at the candy store. There wasn't just one ham, there were two! There was even a cake mix.

I laughed, I cried, I sat and stared. Rats! I'm tearing up, remembering it.

We had felt so alone and so depressed and now, today, people stood in my house. Men from the church and our landlord, standing right here in my home and admiring my weed Christmas tree.

I was so overwhelmed, I could do nothing but cry and laugh and cry and then we went to bed, exhausted.

The next day, we wore ourselves out cooking and baking and playing in the kitchen. It was the grandest day of our lives.

We waited for Christmas Day, to open our gifts. My daughter wore her new knitted hat and gloves and I wore my old worn out pink sweat shirt, she had sewn bows onto.

Like two little kids, we kept bursting into a run for the kitchen, to gobble up another what ever! I never had so much fun just eating, and food never tasted so good.

It was a glorious Christmas and we even remembered to sing Happy Birthday to Jesus.

It's been over 20 years, and I still can't go through a Christmas without stopping and remembering the best Christmas of all.

Do you happen to remember the best Christmas of your childhood? Do you happen to remember what was great about it?

Was it the present's? Was it the candy and food? Or maybe it was because a special grandparent was there.

What is that warm feeling about Christmas, anyway? Why is it so special? Can you name one thing? Or perhaps, it's a million things.

Personally, I think that for the adults it's a break from what feels like a long winter coming-something special, in the middle of the dreary months. Something to distract us from the possibility of catching the flu. Winter always brings on that dread of flu bugs and I think Christmas is a welcome distraction.

You know what it is, for the kids? Expectations! The unknown thrill ! Surprises ! Kids love surprises, it melts away worries.

Worried about: stuttering, a pimple, ugly features, that next punishment, having to do chores....all that. Suddenly it's all forgotten for awhile. Worries over a sick sibling, suddenly pushed aside.

This is the time of year to let your kids LET GO of worries. No guilt, no shame, just letting go and letting them feel excitement.

Where would we be without Christmas? It's the one time of the year we think of others, it's the one time of the year we get to think about ourselves. It's a freedom thing.

There are smells, one doesn't smell any other time of the year. There are sparkling lights, where otherwise all is grey and dull. Splashes of color replace the dead leaves. Some of us even drive around to let our children see everybody's lights.

It's special. You don't have to spend a fortune, in fact, that just kills the aroma of Christmas.

For those of us who recognize it as a celebration of the greatest birthday, it's a time to reflect and remember Jesus.

It's at Christmas, our hearts swell over the silliest things.

And....if you're smart..you'll do your Christmas shopping year around and not join those massive crowds out there, spreading around that dreaded flu.

Will it be filled with junk that is forgotten tomorrow? Will it be filled with warm memories?

It's pretty much up to you, you know. If you want a Christmas you will never forget, forget about yourself and look around you for those less fortunate. There is always someone less fortunate than yourself.

I remember a year, when my daughter was little, I went to the discount store and bought all the packages of tube socks, I could afford. Then I baked cookies, until they were running out my ears.

This sounds like a simple thing but to some, just the thought brings Christmas into their heart. We drove down town and found the area where the homeless were sitting around on benches, just passing the day. With our arms loaded with paper bags filled with cookies and a pair of socks, we handed them out and gave a hearty "Merry Christmas" to each one. We didn't look back, we just kept walking and handing out the bags and when they were all gone, we left.

If I were rich, I'd have been handing out brand new coats and boots but I couldn't afford that so I did what I could.

Every place needs helpful volunteers: your church, the local thrift shop, the local food bank and all sorts of charities. There are more people finding themselves homeless, than in the past.

Remember them and add a beautiful memory to your Christmas season memories. You will never forget the Christmas you gave and gave and gave%u2026.of yourself.

Of course, when I was a child, all I had to do was look forward to all the great promises that came with Christmas. Things like a surprise on Christmas morning, pretty lights and great snacks.

Then I grew up and had a child of my own. Oh boy. That's when the anxiety started. I had discovered there was a human being, in this world, that meant more to me than anyone ever had.

Why, I don't really know, but I went over board, every year, for that little girl. I could never give enough. Enough to satisfy me, that is.

She was only 3, when I loaded her down with a new doll. That wasn't enough, there had to be a little doll crib and a little doll high chair and of course, extra clothes, a stroller and so forth and so on until it was absolutely insane. That's not where it stopped. I couldn't pass by that little gum ball machine and naturally, that meant I needed to get her a years supply of gum balls. Of course, it didn't stop there but the list was so long, by the time Christmas arrived, I couldn't possibly remember what all I did.

I wonder, sometimes if we don't load onto our children, all those secret desires from our own childhoods. What makes us do things, like that?

I delighted in watching her run from item to item, like a child in a candy store. I do have to admit that when the gum balls didn't last until bedtime, the first day, I wondered about my own sanity.

I'm great with advice for young parents but when it comes to Christmas, I have the common sense to keep my mouth shut. I'm certainly no model. Am I the only one?