One of my father’s most often repeated sentiments revolved around his happiest years: “The very best years were when all our kids were under the same roof.”
Life unfolds, day by day, and there is so much we are oblivious to in the moment. Things which seemed to hold so little meaning are often treasured in retrospect.
One memory I now hold dear was watching our dad bring the chosen Christmas tree on to our front porch, where he would give it a fresh cut to better fit the base. After pulling it through the front door and getting the tree set up for us, he happily headed back to his chores.
In our earliest traditions, I remember Mom popping lots of popcorn. The older girls would help make popcorn balls, while my job was to help my next older sister by choosing the best fluffy popcorn pieces for her to pierce with a needle, threading popcorn and cranberries to string onto the tree. I’ve often said that as the youngest girl, I never really learned how to actually do anything, but I sure knew how to help!
Our mom took lots of pictures, and sent out Christmas cards with a photograph of us every year. One of my favorites came back to me in a Christmas card from a longtime friend of my parents a few years ago. Four little girls in cozy pajamas, all kneeling beside a bed to say nighttime prayers, were captured in black and white for all time.
In retrospect, I have come to appreciate Mom’s efforts. It was Dad who was more vocal in letting us know we were each the apple of his eye. Family was everything to him and he let us know it. Mom put in the time, and likely pinched her pennies to buy film (and flash bulbs bright enough to blind us), have it developed and make personalized cards. Then, long letters were written to send out to friends and family, far and wide.
Christmas was holy, and even the cattle were given a bit more as we celebrated — extra straw was shaken out to keep them warm and a dash of extra grain given in the milking parlor. Even the barn cats got a little extra warm milk.
Though we girls had circled dozens of dream wishes in the Montgomery Ward catalog, I don’t think a single one ever landed under our Christmas tree. Simple gifts were exchanged, and very early on we learned it was just as joyful to give as to receive.
From my farm to yours, I wish you all a very merry Christmas.
