The weekend after Thanksgiving is when our family typically puts up our Christmas decorations. My husband works in retail so after this weekend, we know that sightings of him will be scarce and he probably won't be available to string lights or go back up in the attic to look for just one more box. 

Year after year, we get out decorations that are relatively new and some that I brought home after my mother died. My children have always enjoyed this activity so much that without my realizing it, this has become a family ritual. As each ornament is carefully taken from its tissue wrapping one of the girls will exclaim over its origins. 

"This is the ornament that I made in kindergarten!" 

"Here is the star from the church cantata when I was in the 3rd grade." 

"Aunt Jenni made this while Maw Maw was in the hospital."

"Here are the ornaments Mrs. Cravens made us when we were in the Sunbeam Choir."

I found my "Baby's First Christmas" ornament. 

Here is the one Pam gave you the first year you and Daddy were married.

Here is the Indian decoration I made in elementary school.

And so on it goes. As each ornament is gently unwrapped, we all take a moment to recall where it came from and why it is special to our family. Sometimes the ornament is important because someone dear gave it to us. We have an ornament from neighbors that looks like our dog. Another with the girls' pictures in them taken at Ole and Carolyn's pool when the girls were very young. There are some from an elderly couple that lived across the street. They would frequently eat a McDonald's Happy Meal and save the Christmas ornament for my children. 

Some ornaments are special because the girls made them at church or at school during their early years. The Texas heat in our attic is especially hard on school paste, and sometimes I wonder if some of the earlier models will make it through another season. But just let me try to throw one away and the cries of outrage from my children quickly have me looking for a spot on the back of the tree for this little gem. It seems the older and more primitive the decoration, the bigger treasure it represents to them.

Some ornaments are special because they mark special events; First Christmas Together; Baby's First Christmas, Driver's License, Mom Graduates from College, Grandbaby's First Christmas. We have a camera collection since our dad is a photographer, an angel collection for mom and several with the girls' names on them. 

A few years ago as we unpacked our Christmas collection I realized that my children were nearly grown. That gave me such a sinking feeling. There was so much that I still wanted to do while my kids were young. My husband and I had truly struggled financially for so many years, and it seemed that Christmas time just made the struggle that much harder. Most years, we exchanged a card on the tree or a kiss under the mistletoe. There was no money for gifts for each other and trying to make Christmas for the girls was a challenge that was usually overwhelming to me. 

But the girls weren't little anymore and all the things I wanted to do "some day" would never get done. My heart ached and I wondered if I was destined to always wish for what "might have been." Yet as I looked around, I realized that my children were extremely happy with all of our holiday traditions and decorations. This was amazing to me and a revelation. As I watched them lovingly go through each trinket, I became aware that their memories of Christmas were joyous and happy. It is easy to say that money is not what it takes to make Christmas special, or that children aren't interested in the price tag. But it is more difficult to let that learning sink down into your heart where you know it to be true. 

For the first time in many years, I was able to relax and enjoy Christmas as much as my children did. Not because of the lavish gifts and decorations, but because we had been able to make memories together, then to take those special moments out of the tissue one by one, dust them off and share them again! 

With all my heart,
Lillian