The past couple of weeks haven’t been easy emotionally. Christmas’ of past have been flowing through my thoughts. When Christmas was simple. Dad worked many jobs to make certain we had basic needs – driving a taxi (yes Nocona had one), hauling hay, delivering milk, and any other type of labor work he could find. Each Christmas, Dad would bring home one box of Brach’s chocolate covered cherries. An item that we no doubt couldn’t afford. But that box always made me smile, and I couldn’t wait to taste the sweetness of that candy. I can still see his smiling face as he carried the box of candy into the house on West Pine.
I never remember seeing him eat any of the candy and I most likely didn’t share it with my brother, unless I was forced. I remember savoring the sweetness from the candy as well as the excitement that signaled it was close to Christmas. I remember exactly where our Christmas tree was placed. It wasn’t purchased but was chopped down by Dad on someone’s land. The decorations were simple – a few ornaments, silver garland, icicles, and popcorn we’d strung. To me it was the perfect tree at a perfect time in my life. Simple.
With whatever money they could scrape together, Mom and Dad always made sure there were gifts under our tree. My brother and I always made a simple list and something from the list was always delivered by Santa. My parents didn’t have present filled Christmas’ growing up. They were both raised in homes where presents consisted of whatever a church or a kind stranger gave. I’ve always believed this to be the reason they made sacrifices to insure me and Tommy had what we wanted for Christmas.
Christmas Eve was always at Aunt Jackie’s house. Now my Dad had ten brothers and sisters so with their wives and children, if sixty of us gathered that was a small number. I can still hear my Aunt Ruby laughing loudly and keeping the party going. Uncle Tuck was usually sitting by Dad and no one ever knew what they talked about. I loved my Uncle AW’s hugs, and the other eight aunts and uncles talking and trying to make me mind.
Aunt Jackie was always busy in the kitchen making sure everyone was getting the food ready. Not sure who thought it was a good idea, but at times they’d decide to put all the children (at least 15+) in my cousin’s bedroom. He had bunk beds, as I remember, and to say kids were hurt in there is an understatement. We were all stair-step in age and around each other all the time, so it was basically 15 siblings fighting for survival. It was brutal in that room and one of my fondest memories.
When we’d return home it was off to bed. We had a hanging gold bell which played Jingle Bells when you pulled the cord. Santa aways pulled that cord before he left our house and returned to his sleigh. I tried so hard to stay awake each year to catch him. Even if the music from the bell woke me up, I was always too late.
Jesus was a major part of our Christmas’ and we celebrated His birth. Church services were without praise bands and flashing lights. Just a quiet congregation singing Christmas hymns from memory and sharing in the special birth of the Christ child. Simple times yet so powerful in my memories. Today I long for this type of Christmas. Where gifts were few and giving to others was the norm. Where decorations were simple and the manger was always the focus. Where family gathered and their “presence” was all that was needed.
I paused in aisle by the chocolate covered cherries this week and cried. Oh what I’d give to see my Daddy’s smiling face walk in the door one more time with the box in his hand. But he’ll be spending another Christmas in Heaven with Jesus. He has two brothers with him there and my Mom. They are with the real meaning of Christmas. For me I’ll still be working on trying to keep it simple.
And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins. Matthew 1:21
Treading Water 