We are almost ready to put up a Christmas tree, the living room walls have been repainted, the kitchen floor is done, the kitchen and hallway have been painted, as well, just a couple more things and tree time.
I like having the tree up for several weeks, so I can spend time just staring at each ornament by itself. Some years that doesn’t happen as time just gets away from us and we don’t get it up until really late.
So, I have taken pictures of a couple ornaments over the years. The main one being the lamb shown here. That lamb is very old, much older than me but, I’m not sure exactly when it was made. My grandma, Susan, painted it and I held onto it. One year it made its way into my room, into my dresser, when I was fairly young and it has stayed with my stuff ever since then.
Luckily enough, that happened, as one year all my parents Christmas decorations were stolen. All the ornaments from our whole lives were gone, including ones that my Mom and Dad had made as small children. What kind of person would steal Christmas decorations? None of them were worth any money, none of them would mean anything to someone else.
They have no idea why the plastic Santa house wind chime, that had parts missing, was still hung every year. Or why the wire hanger, silver garland (probably with lead in it) and red bow wreath was reshaped and hung as well, even though it was no longer beautiful. And they will never understand how a small red house ornament, that was very plain but, that you could put a light under and it would shine through the windows was my Dad’s favorite and we have never been able to find anything else like that for him.
Our stockings that were hand knit by our Great Aunt, that always bulged with an orange at the toe mean nothing to them. The thread spools dipped in glue, then glitter, one made by me, one by Mary, while in kindergarten that dropped glitter everywhere will never grace our tree again.
Yet, I still remember all these things, years after they were stolen. Even though the thief took all our decorations, they didn’t take my memories, nor that one lovingly painted lamb ornament that will grace a place of honor again this year. After all, the rushing, and bustling, the work, the fuss, all of that is about the memories of the holiday when it comes down to it.