Blog: Lessons From a Christmas Past

A few years ago, tired of decorating my Christmas tree with broken ornaments and school craft projects, I took a cue from Martha Stewart and bought all new color coordinated ornaments, leaving the kid's paper plate and popsicle stick creations stored in their boxes.

I painstakingly decorated each branch with my new-found treasures until it was magazine-cover worthy. I could hardly wait until my children and grandchildren came to see my masterpiece. But, instead of "oohs" and "aahs" as they entered the front door, they took one look at the tree and protested, "where's my ornaments?"

Looking back on my own childhood Christmases, it's not the presents I remember, but the preparation.

Decorating the house and trimming the tree was the highlight of the season. We formed a receiving line as my dad handed down dusty cardboard boxes from the attic, to each of our outstretched arms. Eventually, all of the boxes ended up in front of the noble fir, while five eager children anxiously waited for each one to be opened, as if for the first time.

Lights for the house, garland for the walls, five red felt stockings, and finally – the ornaments. Most were just painted glass balls bought from the five and dime, although some had actually hung on my Dad's tree when he was a boy. I thought all were magnificent, but my favorite was the one with the little spinner inside of it. The warmth from the lights on the tree stirred the air and made the spinner twirl. To this day, some of my most meaningful Christmas memories stem from the contents of those dusty boxes.

I learned a valuable lesson from my Martha Stewart tree. Although beautiful, it was like a book without words, devoid of meaning. My family wanted their history back.

This year, those new ornaments will remain packed away as we once again hang the popsicle stick snowmen, tissue paper wreaths and pipe cleaner candy canes in their places of honor. Though tattered with age, each one represents a chapter of our family story. They help us recall the firsts and the lasts, the joys and the heartaches, the present and the past. And as we watch the spinner twirl above the lights, our hearts are stirred by the warmth of our memories.