Dave and I start school tomorrow. We spent our time off enjoying simple luxuries like time with friends, sleeping in and staying up late watching favorite movies. We also made a trip to Kansas to visit my family for Christmas. It was our best Christmas to date. The best moments were the ones we couldn’t (and some we wouldn’t) have scheduled. A snippet of the best is below.
We don't open presents one at a time in my family. There are way to many grandkids for that. Some years I think Grandma and Grandpa were happy to keep the overnight grandkids from starting the melee before the rest of the family arrived. Once the joyful chaos concludes we go around the circle one at a time, show what we got, and tell who it’s from. This is a standard yearly event for our family. God likes to break in to ordinary moments and make them extraordinary. That's what happened this Christmas.
"---had my name and she gave me..." Around the circle we go, each person and each gift receiving due smiles and nods. Then came Grandpa's turn.
"Well, Randall had my name and he gave me a book and this empty journal." Grandpa shows the journal. No one can miss the bright orange sticky notes plastered throughout the book. "It says, 'Use this to write down stories you remember.'" Grandpa turns the book, holds it at arms length and reads: "Favorite childhood pets." He pauses briefly then begins telling about a white dog named Tip he had as a boy. It’s a happy/ sad story since Tip had an untimely demise I don't recall at this moment. Grandpa flips to another note and reads: Time in Germany and how you got the Hummels.
For an hour Grandpa remembers while his family listens and laughs. Grandma chimes in with a couple stories of her own. The aunts and uncles share some details unique to them. But the majority of the time the patriarch has the floor.
Finally Grandpa comes to the last orange note in the journal. “Well, Randall, you’re getting kinda’ personal here. Why’d you put this one in here?” He's said something similar a couple of times already, usually when it came to religion or politics.
From the edge of the circle, Randall says, “You can wait and do that one in private if you want.”
Only they know what we all want to know: what’s on that note?
“Memories of mom and the kids.” Grandpa pauses longer than usual. “I’d need a book with a million pages to tell about your mom.” He pauses again, no eye contact, looking straight ahead into the center of our family circle. “She’s the perfect one for me in this world." He glances at her in the easy chair next to him. "I can’t tell you how perfect she is for me. I get choked up talking about it.” And he stops. And we savor a moment of deep family love.
There’s a knot in my throat. Decades of life and love cascade like water over a dam in front of me. When the floodgate opened I'm glad I was here to bring my container to the cascade.
What an unexpected, beautiful gift! Best Christmas ever.
Beautiful
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