The ornament of the house is the people in it
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Charlotte, did you take the key to the truck?” I had fixed, readied, strapped, tied, and prepped all to pull out of the drive for a fun day of Christmas shopping; wrapping paper, bows, gift tags, and ornaments were on our list, only to find ourselves without the key. “Yes, Mam. I did take the key to play with it.” Absentmindedly left on the counter, the shiny silver key must have caught her eye as she slid it off the counter and off to the playroom. “Where did you take it?” I asked, frustrated. “I don’t know.” She recalled. “Everybody out. I stated matter of factly.” Heads were going to roll for this one.
Decorating the Christmas tree, I reached for one last homemade gingerbread ornament; only part of him came. The head remained on the chair. “Charlotte! Did you break the head off the gingerbread man?!” Walking to me with her hands covering her rear end, she responded, “Yes, mam.” “Why!” I exclaimed. Because I wanted to see if the cookie would break.” “It’s not that kind of cookie, Charlotte!” “It was an ornament for the tree.” “Charlotte,” I questioned, “Would you touch it if this wall had wet paint on it.” Charlotte smiled.
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“Don’t leave,” I said as Chuck prepared to return to work. Tyson was a little over a week old, and the time for Chuck to return to work was here. It had flown by. Now, it was time for regular days and work to be done. I hugged him extra long that morning. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s just like riding a bike.”
When the door closed, I stood in the hallway alone, knowing that any minute, cries would start and footsteps beating like drums would find me. I began to prepare breakfast and move flawlessly from one task to the next. I smiled as I spoke aloud, “If every day is as smooth as this, I will be amazing with three kids.”
The next day, Chuck and Eva had high temperatures; the flu tried to rear its ugly head in my house. “Kristen, it is paramount you keep Tyson away from them both. He is one week old. There is nothing I can do if he gets the flu. He will have to go straight to the ER.” I listened to our doctor’s advice. Tears forming in my eyes. Here I was, just out of the hospital with an infant, my husband and little girl both sick and Charlotte in need of my care as well.
Baptized by fire, the amazing feeling I had just a few days before had vanished. I dried my tears and called on the Lord for strength and peace. I immediately moved all three of us into Charlotte’s room and put Chuck and Eva in our room. My hospitality and care services were in full swing. I never felt better. I was passing out meds and Lysol like candy. Tyson would sleep for four to five hours, and Charlotte and I would handle the needs of the house and dogs. Trapsing through the woods, just Charlotte and I, became a methodical afternoon charm. Listening to her curious questions and playful make-believe lifted my heart and spirit. Walkie- talkies connected us if I needed to make a quick return to the house.
The nights were the longest. One night, I heard Eva call me. From the doorway, I heard her say, “Mom, we missed my school party, the church kids party, and the cantata. And you missed the ornament party. Now we are going to miss our Christmas play. We have missed Christmas,” she said through teary eyes.
I desperately wanted to hold Eva close but knew I could not. I was needed on both fronts and could not risk catching the flu. Both of them had been knocked down like a sack of wet cornmeal. I sat down with Charlotte in the hallway. Eva was on my bed, lying next to her daddy. I smiled with experience and spoke. “Christmas comes no matter where you are, how you feel, or what festivities you miss.” Sitting together, Tyson snoozing soundly in his swing, all of us visiting together, I continued, “Christmas is about the Savior of the world who arrived in a manger so long ago to save the world from sin and death. Christmas is about Jesus. He showed up in the manger whether Christmas cards were sent or not. You can’t miss Christmas.”
God touched every one of us that week. Tyson remained healthy, and I had the strength to care for all, including those sick and those counting on me for baths and breakfast. Everyone was well by Christmas day. We spent the morning around the tree, opening gifts and enjoying our new addition, whom the Lord so graciously gave to our home.
Recently, we drove down backroads, around each curve, and over the winding hills from one country home place to the next. Some were pristine, marked with care and well-tended years. Others, you could see the stamp of hardship and illness where the owners could no longer take care of what they used to love so dearly. No matter the case, we all unloaded to sing our caroling tunes at each place; filling front yards, living rooms, and dens, we lifted the spirits of all who resided in each home. The children gathered around each receiving recipient, delighted them with Joy to the World, Away in a Manger, Silent Night, and wished them a Merry Christmas upon our departure.
Upon leaving one home, the couple encouraged us by saying, “We have seventy-six years of church attendance. If there is one thing I can tell you, it’s this: when you think life has gotten too hard, trust God. He will see you through.” When a pillar with strong foundations speaks, it will heed us well and listen.
Seeing the friendships, laughter, and joy made me smile, knowing my children would grow up to remember caroling in bundled coats and hats. I stood back, holding Tyson, and watched his little face light up as they sang. He even joined in a time or two with a few alto outbursts. All afternoon, I had the pleasure of holding my little boy, uninterrupted by the demands of chores or other needs, simply the sweet pleasure of being together without one whimper or squirming for somewhere else. He will never know it happened, but I will never forget the sweet delight of an afternoon spent with family and friends and the blessing of a little boy who was content just to be with me.
How like our life’s long journey,
Homeward- Alice Kennelly Roberts
The trail which time has made
The loved ones waiting for us,
The scenes which never fade,
The strength of someone near to us
To lift the heavy load-
These are memories we keep
To cherish on life’s road.
I remembered what my mother had told me last year while I was knee-deep in Theraflu and orange juice disbursement: “When times like this happen, and disappointments arise, we must look back and count our blessings. They are too innumerable to count.”
My eyes sparkled, seeing, full circle, what one year had produced. I watched the children file into the sanctuary. Every parent, grandparent, friend, and relative smiled as the children paraded in. Eva, with the host of angels in white robes and garland halos, and Charlotte, with the flock of floppy-eared sheep, stood on the stage with the rest of the Nativity. The lights were low, and the children again brought the Christmas Story to life. They do not understand the deep root system just yet, but they will. And one day, they too will utter the words to their children, “You can’t miss Christmas.”
If you’re worried and you can’t sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you’ll fall asleep, counting your blessings.
– Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney – White Christmas
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill toward men. Luke 2:14
