And for the last 19 Christmas seasons, at a moment I least expect, I’ll have a big cry because I can’t share Christmas with my mom.
Sometimes it comes when I’m putting out the little silver tree in our master bath that displays a sample of her pink ornaments.
Sometimes it comes when I hang the fancy handmade stockings
she made for my children. Or when I hang the store-bought stockings for their
spouses she never got to meet and her great grand babies she didn’t get to hold.
Some years it comes when I make her grandmother’s citrus fruitcake, which ages for six weeks and tastes nothing like the yucky ones everyone hates.
Sometimes it comes during a Christmas play or concert at church or while singing one of her favorite carols.
Sometimes it comes while wrapping my gifts in foil wrapping paper like she used, but never with bows as pretty as she made.
Sometimes it comes at the grocery store when I see the displays of chocolate chips and Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk. Because if the recipe called for chocolate chips and Eagle Brand, she loved the recipe.
Sometimes the big cry waits until Christmas morning, when I’m putting her traditional Christmas morning rolls in the oven. I’ve now made them for twice as many Christmas mornings as she did, but it’s still HER tradition.
I know that the Christmas season brings sadness to many people who miss loved ones or are lonely. My sadness is there, but it is the kind of sadness that doesn’t diminish my Christmas joy. Instead the memories recalled and the traditions continued only multiply my joy. And once I’ve had the big Christmas cry, I can submerge completely in the joy of His birth.
Some years it comes when I make her grandmother’s citrus fruitcake, which ages for six weeks and tastes nothing like the yucky ones everyone hates.
Sometimes it comes during a Christmas play or concert at church or while singing one of her favorite carols.
Sometimes it comes while wrapping my gifts in foil wrapping paper like she used, but never with bows as pretty as she made.
Sometimes it comes at the grocery store when I see the displays of chocolate chips and Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk. Because if the recipe called for chocolate chips and Eagle Brand, she loved the recipe.
Sometimes the big cry waits until Christmas morning, when I’m putting her traditional Christmas morning rolls in the oven. I’ve now made them for twice as many Christmas mornings as she did, but it’s still HER tradition.
I know that the Christmas season brings sadness to many people who miss loved ones or are lonely. My sadness is there, but it is the kind of sadness that doesn’t diminish my Christmas joy. Instead the memories recalled and the traditions continued only multiply my joy. And once I’ve had the big Christmas cry, I can submerge completely in the joy of His birth.
