Cornucopia: Christmas, 1998
Copyright © 1998 by Kate Chamberlin
Christmas, 1998
I was having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. I wasn’t exactly depressed, just sort of in a Christmas valley. It didn’t seem worth the effort to get the decorations out of the basement. I couldn’t see them. Why bother with the felt, pocket calendar with the little charms to pin on the felt tree I’d made twenty years ago to help our son count the days until Christmas. There’s no one around to count with me.
My angel collection wouldn’t collect dust if I kept them in the storage box and, as for a Christmas tree?
Well, my husband and I took our four-month old grandson to Keymel’s Christmas tree farm and chose the perfect tree, but it lay on our porch floor still wrapped in twine. Tyler’s too young to know about it and the one photo Dave took, didn’t turn out any way. Perhaps we’ll just chop it up for mulch in the spring.
There wasn’t much snow and it seemed like it was going to be a blue Christmas.
My daughter started the miracle. She made arrangements with my husband to baby-sit Tyler and then, invited me to go shopping with her. Shortly before we left our home to go meet her, our oldest son called and wanted to come for a visit. We suggested he meet us at Marion’s apartment. He did and we all went out for lunch.
From the restaurant, Dave and Will brought Tyler home for an afternoon of “male bonding”, while Marion and I headed for the Prime Outlet Mall.
The weather was almost balmy and perfect for walking around the open mall. We had a wonderful time of discussing gifts for family members, getting “charge card burn”, munching chocolate and getting to know each other as friends. We didn’t get home until after five o’clock.
The next weekend, Will and his wife came bearing a freshly baked loaf of ginger bread. It smelled so wonderful.Wwe devoured thick slices of it with Brummel and Brown with honey on them.
Will and Heather made several trips into the basement while Dave put up the Christmas tree and lights. As each cherished ornament was brought out, They’d put it into my hands and I’d retell the story of its origin. The oldest ornament of them all was the tiny pink plastic pram that was given to me more than half a century ago in honor of my first Christmas.
It is our tradition that I place the angel on top of the tree as the final touch. Almost 29 years ago, after I’d cut the chiffon and lace for my wedding dress, I’d carefully put the extra fabric away for something special (and because I never throw anything out!).
Our angel is made from that special fabric. Her dress is white chiffon and her wings are lace. Her golden curls are actually a metal Chore Girl scrubber and her head is an old dolls head.
My daughter-in-law washed the angel’s face and handed her to me. Amid a a chorus of directions, I located the top of the tree and place our special angel atop the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
Marion and Tyler arrived and, as I cuddled my grandson, the kids made Christmas cookies called Cherry Winks from a recipe handed down to me from my mother. Our home was bathed in pine fragrance and baking cookies mixed with the friendly banter of happy children working on a special project.
Our son, Paul, called during the afternoon to say he’d be coming home the day before Christmas. All our children will be joining us at the midnight church service Christmas eve and I know I’ll cry.
I may not be able to see the pretty lights or see my son’s hair line receeding or the gayly wrapped presents or even the large box containing our grandson’s crib, but I can smell the ginger bread and munch on Cherry Winks as I rock my grandson.
Best of all, I can feel the hugs and love that make this a blessed Christmas.
My wish is that you, too, can find the blessings in your situation during this festive time and throughout the new year.Copyright © 1998 by Kate Chamberlin
Christmas, 1998
I was having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. I wasn’t exactly depressed, just sort of in a Christmas valley. It didn’t seem worth the effort to get the decorations out of the basement. I couldn’t see them. Why bother with the felt, pocket calendar with the little charms to pin on the felt tree I’d made twenty years ago to help our son count the days until Christmas. There’s no one around to count with me.
My angel collection wouldn’t collect dust if I kept them in the storage box and, as for a Christmas tree?
Well, my husband and I took our four-month old grandson to Keymel’s Christmas tree farm and chose the perfect tree, but it lay on our porch floor still wrapped in twine. Tyler’s too young to know about it and the one photo Dave took, didn’t turn out any way. Perhaps we’ll just chop it up for mulch in the spring.
There wasn’t much snow and it seemed like it was going to be a blue Christmas.
My daughter started the miracle. She made arrangements with my husband to baby-sit Tyler and then, invited me to go shopping with her. Shortly before we left our home to go meet her, our oldest son called and wanted to come for a visit. We suggested he meet us at Marion’s apartment. He did and we all went out for lunch.
From the restaurant, Dave and Will brought Tyler home for an afternoon of “male bonding”, while Marion and I headed for the Prime Outlet Mall.
The weather was almost balmy and perfect for walking around the open mall. We had a wonderful time of discussing gifts for family members, getting “charge card burn”, munching chocolate and getting to know each other as friends. We didn’t get home until after five o’clock.
The next weekend, Will and his wife came bearing a freshly baked loaf of ginger bread. It smelled so wonderful.Wwe devoured thick slices of it with Brummel and Brown with honey on them.
Will and Heather made several trips into the basement while Dave put up the Christmas tree and lights. As each cherished ornament was brought out, They’d put it into my hands and I’d retell the story of its origin. The oldest ornament of them all was the tiny pink plastic pram that was given to me more than half a century ago in honor of my first Christmas.
It is our tradition that I place the angel on top of the tree as the final touch. Almost 29 years ago, after I’d cut the chiffon and lace for my wedding dress, I’d carefully put the extra fabric away for something special (and because I never throw anything out!).
Our angel is made from that special fabric. Her dress is white chiffon and her wings are lace. Her golden curls are actually a metal Chore Girl scrubber and her head is an old dolls head.
My daughter-in-law washed the angel’s face and handed her to me. Amid a a chorus of directions, I located the top of the tree and place our special angel atop the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
Marion and Tyler arrived and, as I cuddled my grandson, the kids made Christmas cookies called Cherry Winks from a recipe handed down to me from my mother. Our home was bathed in pine fragrance and baking cookies mixed with the friendly banter of happy children working on a special project.
Our son, Paul, called during the afternoon to say he’d be coming home the day before Christmas. All our children will be joining us at the midnight church service Christmas eve and I know I’ll cry.
I may not be able to see the pretty lights or see my son’s hair line receeding or the gayly wrapped presents or even the large box containing our grandson’s crib, but I can smell the ginger bread and munch on Cherry Winks as I rock my grandson.
Best of all, I can feel the hugs and love that make this a blessed Christmas.
My wish is that you, too, can find the blessings in your situation during this festive time and throughout the new year.
Cornucopia, 1998
CoCopyright © 1998 by Kate Chamberlin
Christmas, 1998
I was having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. I wasn’t exactly depressed, just sort of in a Christmas valley. It didn’t seem worth the effort to get the decorations out of the basement. I couldn’t see them. Why bother with the felt, pocket calendar with the little charms to pin on the felt tree I’d made twenty years ago to help our son count the days until Christmas. There’s no one around to count with me.
My angel collection wouldn’t collect dust if I kept them in the storage box and, as for a Christmas tree?
Well, my husband and I took our four-month old grandson to Keymel’s Christmas tree farm and chose the perfect tree, but it lay on our porch floor still wrapped in twine. Tyler’s too young to know about it and the one photo Dave took, didn’t turn out any way. Perhaps we’ll just chop it up for mulch in the spring.
There wasn’t much snow and it seemed like it was going to be a blue Christmas.
My daughter started the miracle. She made arrangements with my husband to baby-sit Tyler and then, invited me to go shopping with her. Shortly before we left our home to go meet her, our oldest son called and wanted to come for a visit. We suggested he meet us at Marion’s apartment. He did and we all went out for lunch.
From the restaurant, Dave and Will brought Tyler home for an afternoon of “male bonding”, while Marion and I headed for the Prime Outlet Mall.
The weather was almost balmy and perfect for walking around the open mall. We had a wonderful time of discussing gifts for family members, getting “charge card burn”, munching chocolate and getting to know each other as friends. We didn’t get home until after five o’clock.
The next weekend, Will and his wife came bearing a freshly baked loaf of ginger bread. It smelled so wonderful.Wwe devoured thick slices of it with Brummel and Brown with honey on them.
Will and Heather made several trips into the basement while Dave put up the Christmas tree and lights. As each cherished ornament was brought out, They’d put it into my hands and I’d retell the story of its origin. The oldest ornament of them all was the tiny pink plastic pram that was given to me more than half a century ago in honor of my first Christmas.
It is our tradition that I place the angel on top of the tree as the final touch. Almost 29 years ago, after I’d cut the chiffon and lace for my wedding dress, I’d carefully put the extra fabric away for something special (and because I never throw anything out!).
Our angel is made from that special fabric. Her dress is white chiffon and her wings are lace. Her golden curls are actually a metal Chore Girl scrubber and her head is an old dolls head.
My daughter-in-law washed the angel’s face and handed her to me. Amid a a chorus of directions, I located the top of the tree and place our special angel atop the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
Marion and Tyler arrived and, as I cuddled my grandson, the kids made Christmas cookies called Cherry Winks from a recipe handed down to me from my mother. Our home was bathed in pine fragrance and baking cookies mixed with the friendly banter of happy children working on a special project.
Our son, Paul, called during the afternoon to say he’d be coming home the day before Christmas. All our children will be joining us at the midnight church service Christmas eve and I know I’ll cry.
I may not be able to see the pretty lights or see my son’s hair line receeding or the gayly wrapped presents or even the large box containing our grandson’s crib, but I can smell the ginger bread and munch on Cherry Winks as I rock my grandson.
Best of all, I can feel the hugs and love that make this a blessed Christmas.
My wish is that you, too, can find the blessings in your situation during this festive time and throughout the new year.pyright © 1998 by Kate Chamberlin
Christmas, 1998
I was having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit. I wasn’t exactly depressed, just sort of in a Christmas valley. It didn’t seem worth the effort to get the decorations out of the basement. I couldn’t see them. Why bother with the felt, pocket calendar with the little charms to pin on the felt tree I’d made twenty years ago to help our son count the days until Christmas. There’s no one around to count with me.
My angel collection wouldn’t collect dust if I kept them in the storage box and, as for a Christmas tree?
Well, my husband and I took our four-month old grandson to Keymel’s Christmas tree farm and chose the perfect tree, but it lay on our porch floor still wrapped in twine. Tyler’s too young to know about it and the one photo Dave took, didn’t turn out any way. Perhaps we’ll just chop it up for mulch in the spring.
There wasn’t much snow and it seemed like it was going to be a blue Christmas.
My daughter started the miracle. She made arrangements with my husband to baby-sit Tyler and then, invited me to go shopping with her. Shortly before we left our home to go meet her, our oldest son called and wanted to come for a visit. We suggested he meet us at Marion’s apartment. He did and we all went out for lunch.
From the restaurant, Dave and Will brought Tyler home for an afternoon of “male bonding”, while Marion and I headed for the Prime Outlet Mall.
The weather was almost balmy and perfect for walking around the open mall. We had a wonderful time of discussing gifts for family members, getting “charge card burn”, munching chocolate and getting to know each other as friends. We didn’t get home until after five o’clock.
The next weekend, Will and his wife came bearing a freshly baked loaf of ginger bread. It smelled so wonderful.Wwe devoured thick slices of it with Brummel and Brown with honey on them.
Will and Heather made several trips into the basement while Dave put up the Christmas tree and lights. As each cherished ornament was brought out, They’d put it into my hands and I’d retell the story of its origin. The oldest ornament of them all was the tiny pink plastic pram that was given to me more than half a century ago in honor of my first Christmas.
It is our tradition that I place the angel on top of the tree as the final touch. Almost 29 years ago, after I’d cut the chiffon and lace for my wedding dress, I’d carefully put the extra fabric away for something special (and because I never throw anything out!).
Our angel is made from that special fabric. Her dress is white chiffon and her wings are lace. Her golden curls are actually a metal Chore Girl scrubber and her head is an old dolls head.
My daughter-in-law washed the angel’s face and handed her to me. Amid a a chorus of directions, I located the top of the tree and place our special angel atop the beautifully decorated Christmas tree.
Marion and Tyler arrived and, as I cuddled my grandson, the kids made Christmas cookies called Cherry Winks from a recipe handed down to me from my mother. Our home was bathed in pine fragrance and baking cookies mixed with the friendly banter of happy children working on a special project.
Our son, Paul, called during the afternoon to say he’d be coming home the day before Christmas. All our children will be joining us at the midnight church service Christmas eve and I know I’ll cry.
I may not be able to see the pretty lights or see my son’s hair line receeding or the gayly wrapped presents or even the large box containing our grandson’s crib, but I can smell the ginger bread and munch on Cherry Winks as I rock my grandson.
Best of all, I can feel the hugs and love that make this a blessed Christmas.
My wish is that you, too, can find the blessings in your situation during this festive time and throughout the new year.