bliss, connection, faith, family, grace, gravel roads, knowledge, life, living, love, memory, old maps, postmark, reason, relationship, spirit, strength, truth, wealth, wonder
Just this week, a friend told me of the start of a new tradition within her family wherein each member shared their best Christmas memory. Even in recounting the experience, tears filled her eyes as she spoke of her own, and those shared by others. There were moments of sorrow and others of pure joy, but eventually, they all became the best memory ever.
How is it that we’ve forgotten that? To know that every sorrow wears a coat of joy, and every bliss is but a warning of grief – a missing of the sweetest part? And yet, when measured into the same overflowing cup, they become the best – again and again.
She asked to my best memory ever and I think (partially) it was dislodged from my heart by her telling, but it is one of joy and family……….the best ever still.
Tho we didn’t know it at the time, we weren’t rich. My family of six lived in a two bedroom trailer until I was twelve. Then we moved into a castle of three bedrooms….. 🙂 The memory recalled is from the ‘castle’. Every Saturday was the same. One by one, my brother and sisters would wake for some reason and make our way to my parent’s room, my parent’s bed. Until we were all there, telling our dreams, torturing and tickling, and eventually deciding on breakfast.
But Christmas was another such time. My brother (who by virtue of the fact that he was the only son, had his own bedroom) would sleep in the girl’s room. We’d all pile into one big bed (or it seemed big at the time – tho I suspect it was no more than a full-size). I’m not sure we slept at all, but during the night, with every little squeak or bending of board, we’d speculate that Santa had come around. My brother was the designated outlook for us, and he would sneak down the hall to spy on the living room………and then run back to the safety of us to report. There was no understanding that it had to be five o’clock before we could get up. The only restriction was that we couldn’t get up before Santa had arrived.
Years later, I have heard stories of how long it took to get all the presents under the tree*. Between wrapping, assembling, and playing with all the toys – it was their joy we were most anticipating I think. Even now, at Christmas, I imagine the sound of little boy feet running down the hall…….. ‘he’s here, he’s here’………..
Let us keep Christmas forever in our tiny hearts, remembering things little as big. Let us keep love through the sharing of stories – creating anew every best memory.
* My Chatty Cathy doll was almost worn out before Christmas, and a promise to get a kitten for my sister resulted in an unexpected run to the country – and a cat that nearly brought my dad to stitches. In the telling, even more sweet beautiful tears. My dad comments, ‘we didn’t know just how good we had it’…. Then he winks, ‘yeah, we knew’……..
wake me home
some other year –
beyond this life surrendered
fall to me the places
I have known –
save for me
a little room
with not much more
for leaving –
arms to fill
wake me now
. . .
Cindy Baker said:
I love this Bobbie ❤
Thank you, Cindy……….. Somehow, I suspect similar threads weave your own coat. 🙂 Love you. ~ Still, Bobbie
ƔǏƜɅƚ ƾ said:
my best memory is getting to drink small cups of “scandalous” sweet wine and watching my aunt set fire to a cake slathered with rum on christmas eve.
I love that, Vimal…………. Never without flaw, but always perfect!!! What a beautiful memory. Thank you for sharing. ~ Love shows in thousands of ways. ~ Bobbie
Very nice! There is a aphorism that came in my mind, while reading your post.
I try to translate, as best as possible 😉 :
The first thing man is finding in live
the last thing which he will grab,
the most precios what he can own
is his family
by Adolf Kolping, german priest and founder of “Kolping houses”
Love that, Geogrey………… as I’ve been known to say, there is a reason they were given to us, and we were given back. 🙂 Love to you, my dear friend. ~ Always, Bobbie
Every Christmas at Gram’s house was a “best memory”. Darn it, Bobbie…, happy thoughts are running from my eyes and it’s all your fault !!! ~~XO~~ Me
I’m thrilled to be part of this moment of allowing, Paul………..the things we keep close need air now and then. Love to you (ever)…….. Me xo
Wendell A. Brown said:
A wonderful message in your words to be shared with us all! We sometimes move pass the treasures often that were with us at our beginnings…your words made them come wonderfully alive again….Hugs, love and blessings to you always and thanks for the smile my sister!
Our weakness is our strength, dear Wendell. The places most tender are those which stay……..which carry me even when the night wraps around. Thank you. ~ All my love, Bobbie
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.