After a brief, sweet, cry as I was lost in nostalgia of past Christmases, I had a thought.
Why do memories make us so weepy?
My childhood memories are cluttered with images and sights and smells and people and laughs.
My earliest Christmas mornings in my Grandma's little living room, crammed with gifts, and cousins.
Getting a bride dress up gown and crying when my cousins told me they were going to take me to marry Johnny Smith.
The smell of coffee and biscuits and gravy.
The house littered with air mattresses and pallets and mammie quilts.
Christmas carols sang with much gusto by people of limited talented who were unaware of their limits.
Ornaments that belonged to Great Grandparents that I never met or don't remember.
Red apple ornaments bearing my name and all those I love.
Candies- home made and more wonderful than any ever purchased in a store.
Waiting anxiously as our Christmas baby, Jordan was born almost 18 years ago.
Being so mad that my family wanted to stay up and visit- Santa couldn't come until everyone was sleeping!!!!
Highly inappropriate Christmas gifts being exchanged on Christmas eve, only to be stolen by the right and left family!
The Elmer Fudd Chia Pet that would NOT DIE!
Games of spoons that often resluted in injury and crying.
How beautiful my grandparents were. How blissfully happy. How blessed. How favored by God.
The year that my Grandpa Corky met Jesus in this world.
The year that my Grandpa-in-love Alvin Russell met Jesus face to face in heaven. What a glorious day.
My destructo brother breaking treasured Precious Moments figurines and wisemen.
How my little hometown sparkled with lights on the lamp posts, and a cross shining from a water tower overlooking the town.
My Dad pointing out blinking red lights from plane towers and insisting that it was Santa. I BELIEVED!
Watching my cousins marry and bring a new generation of little ones to take part.
Socks and lifesavers from Grannie Grete or Big Granny as she was known.
The twinkle in the eyes of my Grandpa for who Christmas inspired poetry, pride, and happiness beyond measure.
The year Grannie Myrna burned the rolls and fire marshall Ralph saved the day!
Candlelight services and sweet hymns shared with my church family.
Hmmm.... I just noticed that I never mentioned a gift. Interesting.
I think I know the answer. Why does it make us weepy. I think the answer is simple. In those moments- we just don't realize how good it is. We don't think about the spot in the middle of a green sectional that will be empty, or a laugh that you'll never hear again, or stories that you've heard a thousand times that will never again cross the lips of someone you'll miss until Jesus comes back. I just didn't have any idea how wonderful it was. I do now. And I am so thankful that I had those moments, even if they only exist in my memory now.
But here I am, almost 30. I am Santa now, Mrs. Claus technically. I am orchestrating the memories of two little people that I love more than I ever thought it was possible to love another. And the sweetness continues. I think of my first Christmas as a wife thinking it was so weird to wake up with a boy in my bed! The Christmas we told our families we were preganant only to lose that baby. Being very pregnant with Isaac three years later, very Mary-esque. My first Christmas as a momma, starting a sweet day with my in-laws, and having high expectations that were dashed by 24 inches of snow and ending in a Super8 in Sapulpa with "the bomb" as my Christmas dinner. Then having 10 week old Hope in tow and taking a Griswold Style Christmas vacation on a charter bus to Disney World.
The memories continue. The tears still come.
So mock me if you will when I put up my tree at the first of November, then cry when my fingers find my sentimental ornaments, and laugh for no reason when I hear "Christmas Shoes" or "Where are You Christmas?", or always think that a children's Christmas musical would be better if Miss Debbie was running the show. I'm just getting lost in the past for a minute. I'm sure I'll be back soon, because I need to be present. I don't ever wanna miss anything. I may look back later and realize how good it was.
