by Sarah Albrecht
Fearing impending holiday business, we put up our Christmas trees (the plurality of the trees being a story of itself) last weekend and decorated them Monday for home evening. That leaves us in the odd position of having the dining room decorated for Thanksgiving and the neighboring living room with a gentle Christmas glow.
With the holiday juxtaposition I feel I must blog about both.
Each year we hang on our tree an ever-growing conglomerate of ornaments purchased on vacations, given to us by friends, made by our children--and I feel a rush of memory and sentiment and gratitude in the experience.
The round, gold-framed cross-stitched angel was from the first Young Women president I served under as a young married woman; I still feel grateful for what she taught me about serving. The small glass kerosene lamp was my aunt’s, once a gift of perfume to her during the Depression. I am grateful for her love and for passing part of her life on to me. The pink and yellow ball is from a set my younger brother and I bought together when I was twelve; I am grateful for the close relationship we have always shared. The cardboard cube with snowy scenes on each side is from the cold day we visited historic Danville, Kentucky, with my in-laws; I’m grateful they raised a good son; I’m grateful for new places to visit and learn. Brass ornaments with various temples hang in various spots; most my mom gave us and I’m grateful for her and her love of family history. Stars and trees with my children’s preschool pictures twist on high and low branches. I am grateful for my children.
My children’s favorite ornament, a nativity with a space in the back for a tree light to back-light it, hangs front and center. I am grateful for the Savior.
Turns out, I think, the two holidays go quite well together.
Maybe I’ll do it this way again next year.