Pastor's Memories
Each year as my mind and heart take the traditional cruise down Memory Lane during the Christmas season, I begin to recall the family gatherings we had each year. They were noisy times of laughter, tears, and joy. They were times of loss and of addition. They were times of hugs and kisses. They were times of affirmation.
On Christmas Eve, Larry's mom and dad, my cousin, Rita, along with her husband Bobby, their son Robert and daughter Donna would come for supper. We always had the same Christmas Eve fare. There was shaved imported ham for sandwiches with an assortment of cheeses and veggies. There were a few different breads to choose from. We had chips, pickles, black and green olives and a potato or macaroni salad. The kids spent a long time playing with their black olive finger tips before they ate actually ate the olives.
We always had a table laden with desserts that Larry's mom, Hilda, our daughter, Karen, and I made. I made the brownies. Karen and I made several kinds of cookies and some pies. But the seasonal favorite for me, and the one I anticipated with great joy and drooling, was the cheesecake Hilda made. No, I don't eat the one you all consider cheesecake because it's made with cream cheese. This one was made with cottage cheese and crushed pineapple. Oh my! Oh my! It was my favorite part of the meal. I have her pan and recipe and have tried to make the cheesecake, but it's just not the same.
After supper was over, and the ladies had cleared the table and washed the dishes, the cards came out. The people playing chose between Shanghai Rummy or Poker and set things up. The penny cans came out and the game was on. That's when we were glad there were no neighbors close to us. Even with the windows and doors closed against the winter cold, you could hear the laughter and shouts resounding as one hand after another was won and lost.
At 7 o'clock, Larry and I would put the four children (Rita's two and our two) to bed in the same room so that "Santa" could come. It was actually a time of rest for us! Those kids were wound up! I had a brass bell door knocker that Larry used to ring as he went around our little house in Chepachet, RI. He'd go out about 8 o'clock shouting, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" while ringing the bell as he went past the room the kids were in. I used to go in the room and excitedly tell the kids, "Santa is here! Cover your eyes!" because we thought sure one of them would sit up and look out the window and ruin the annual bell ringing arrival of the man in red. Of course, they were never allowed to see "Santa." It was the thought, the anticipation that was the best. When Larry came back in the house, we called the children to get up and come out to see what the boxes with their names on them contained.
I'm so grateful to God for allowing me these memories and the sadness and joy they bring. I pray with a full heart for those who have lost their memories to illness. "Lord, please restore the minds of people so they can recall the blessings You poured out on them so often, in Jesus' name, amen and amen."
After half the gifts had been opened, we went back the the kitchen for a snack and desserts, coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. The children danced around, showed off new toys, or tried on new clothes. They kept asking when we would get back to opening presents. We adults lingered just a bit longer because we didn't want the evening to end so soon. We talked, we shared, we informed, we empathized, we relived past holidays together, and we hugged some more.
Eventually we had to give in and get back to tearing into those remaining boxes. The children would take "just a few more minutes" only so long. It wasn't long until all that was left under the tree was the dog. He had a bag of doggie treats that he was trying so hard to tear open. He was a little dog and the plastic wrapping the treats came in was more than he could handle. He persisted, though, and it was funny to watch his schennanigans as he twisted and turned his body this way and that to get a better grip on the bag.
Christmas morning was dedicated to "building." As I fried some left-over ham along with eggs and French Toasts, Karen and Chris would follow Larry around the house, inside or out, chanting, "Daddy, can we build now?"
"Daddy, can you build my bike?"
"Daddy, can you build my Big Wheel?"
"Daddy, can we put my stereo together?'
And Larry did, year after year, and still does for the kids to this day if they have something that needs "building." He loved doing it with them, and it was fun to watch as Karen and Chris tried to help Daddy put the pieces together so they actually worked.
I praise the Lord for my momories. We have not stopped making memories with our family and friends. We will meet together, those of us who can, and make memories until Jesus comes back, or we go by way of the grave. I hope you do too.