I remember Christmas at Grandma’s; how can I forget her happy face? A real fireplace kept us warm on the outside; a loving Grandma kept us warm on the inside. Grandma always looked at Christmas as a child would, and as she grew old she continued to love Christmas. In her later years she always gave me a box of chocolate covered cherries. It became something we all laughed about and added to the memory of the special person I call Grandma. As she grew older, like her frail body, her Christmas trees were nothing to photograph--but she never stopped celebrating. Of Course I don’t remember her as a young person, but I knew something of the little girl inside even when she was old and feeble. At Christmas that little girl always lived again--she couldn’t keep secrets and she couldn’t keep her hands off the presents. And did she enjoy opening presents. She also loved Christmas cards--she just couldn’t throw them away. She read them over and over again and cherished them as long as she lived.
Christmas brought to surface a joy that flowed in the heart of my family. Our life was difficult, but we knew what was most important. Life was about people and the special relationships that make life worth living. Grandma was a child in disguise and remembering her warms my heart. May her joy find a place in your heart as you remember the REASON FOR THE SEASON. jfs
... I'm smiling :) I remember the year as an almost penniless teenager, I bought her a set of hair combs for Christmas. She treated them as if they were layered in jewels. I remember her feeble arms reaching up and putting them in the sides of her hair, just above her ears. I remember watching her take them out that night, as she let down her long hair from its bun, and lay them sweetly on the bedside table. I felt loved. Thanks, Dad, for your beautiful words of such a beautiful lady.
ReplyDeleteLord, let the child in all of us rise up to celebrate the Birth of the Christ Child.
ReplyDeleteDad,
ReplyDeleteYou brought back my memory of her, and a smile as well. If when I am gone, people smile when they think of me . . . I could ask for no better tribute.
Mark