Oh Christmas Tree and Ode to New Traditions

 

 For years I have added Christmas ornaments for each of my grandbabies to my tree in whatever theme I was going with. At the end of the season, I pack those ornaments away for the day that they have families of their own and will be able to decorate their own trees.

This year, I read an article about creating new traditions in the light of a loss.  Because this year begins a new chapter in our life, I wanted to create new traditions. (Not necessarily throwing out the old ones, but choosing which to keep, and which to add). Just a few moments ago, a friend sent me a picture of a Christmas 8 years ago at my house. Our tree that year was construction themed, and sitting at our table (the same table) was my mom and Loyd. Time goes by so fast! I hadn't even remembered that my mom was with us that Christmas.

 This year I decided to add a new tradition, ornaments to commemorate the lives of those who are no longer with us. I didn't do a full size tree this year, but I stayed with a theme. In honor of our new camping life style, I went with a rustic theme. I managed to add ornaments for my grand babies, a few new ones of my own, and the commemorative ornaments-all to that little tree. I added a black bear (Larry), a cross made of olive wood with the Lord's Prayer in Spanish (Toni), a burlap map of Arkansas (Loyd), a Willow "The Love of Learning" (Melanie), and a pig (mom) all to my little 3 ft tree. Each of these ornaments represents a life and a story. I will pack these ornaments away too and next year choose a different set which will tell a different story. (Larry-yours next year may be apple pie. I am liking the idea of a food themed tree!). I may be in my camper next Christmas, but will still make room for this new tradition.

The short story I submitted to the contest  I mentioned in an earlier post was a Christmas story. The contest closed Christmas Eve (I will be checking that in just a moment to see if the winners have been announced). I toiled over what to write about. I wanted to do a historical fiction and did some research to that end. I wanted to include Louisiana in there. I wanted to get Three Kings in there, but in the end, I wrote about what I knew. I wrote a story about change. I wrote a story that looks forward to this new chapter of my life.

Christmas Epiphany

Lisa, a Florida born navy brat, hadn’t spent her 52 years celebrating Christmas in all the traditional ways. Yes, there were years when the extended family gathered and enjoyed a Christmas dinner together, but her family was built to wander. Most military families are. Celebrating Christmas takes on new meaning when Christmases are spent away from family or among cultures with traditions alien to what you know.

This year with Christmas fast approaching, Lisa couldn’t help but think on all these past experiences and wonder what lay ahead. Now that all the children had grown and established their own traditions, what should she do? Should she dig out all those Christmas decorations from the storage shed?  Should she hang stockings, lights, or continue with a themed Christmas tree?  Was it all really necessary?

For years, she had attempted to create Christmas family traditions that focused on Jesus’ birthday. When the kids were little, there was a birthday cake for Jesus and the hiding of baby Jesus throughout the month of December.  She had loved the idea that they had spent the season looking for Jesus. They opened their presents on Christmas Eve and their Christmas stockings Christmas morning.  She smiled when she considered all those Christmas mornings she woke up early to lay those stockings on the foot of her children’s beds.  She had hoped some of those traditions would spill over in to her grandchildren’s lives too. Maybe her children would celebrate Christmas in some of the same ways they had as children. She sighed. Maybe not.

With her feet tucked under a blanket and coffee in hand, she thought about it all. This year no one would be coming home. Her mom had been gone for a few years now, passing away on January 6, Three King’s Day, a day she had enjoyed celebrating with her sweet Spanish friend. That friend is gone now too. Father in law, Aunts, Uncles, Friends, so many had passed on. Everything had changed. She had changed. Traditions that had seemed so important no longer did. She needed new traditions, traditions that reflected this new life she was living.

Her mind wandered back to sweet memories of Three King’s Day celebrations, three simple gifts, her friend, her mom, past regrets and future hopes. She reflected on what had mattered the most. She longed to explore, to reach for what she couldn’t yet see, but knew was out there, somewhere.  Isn’t that what the Kings’ did? They set out on a quest, expectant, believing, and hopeful. She gazed outside her camper window at the morning sun peeking through the trees.  Glancing left, she spotted the barely visible North Star on the horizon. She put on Christmas music. She thought about putting up a tree and setting out the nativity scene, but she called her dad instead.  Legend says it took the kings two years to find baby Jesus. Maybe she could find what she was looking for in just one. 

Table Fetish?

Anyone who knows me knows I have this thing about tables. I always seem to have an abundance of them. Just this week, three different tables have occupied this very spot. Earlier this week, a little drop leaf with two Windsor chairs took up space here. I picked that one up this past summer when I realized we were moving back into our house and no longer owned a breakfast table. My former breakfast table  (definitely one of my all time favorites) now lives at my son's house. My little drop leaf found a new home just a few days ago. The space sat empty for a few days until we moved our newest table, a square counter height table with two bar stools into the breakfast room. That was a temporary move. That table is moving to a new home next week.
The table in my breakfast room had been sitting in storage for several months, before that, it lived at my sister's house, but before that, it had a long history at my house. As a matter of fact, hidden under this table cloth are scars that have more than a few stories to share. Stories that include homeschooling not only my children, but a little boy named Joshua that lost his life to cancer at six years old and a middle school aged girl who was struggling in public school. Her mom and I became the best of friends, sharing a cup of coffee and our lives at this same table. She is gone too-cancer also. This table has moved with us from house to house. We have shared birthdays, holidays, and family dinners all at this table. I completed my bachelors and master's degree at this same table. We planned my daughter's wedding around this table. We have fed missionaries and pastors at this table. My brothers, sisters, mother, nieces, nephews, and grandson have eaten at this table. It has seen hours of homework, sewing late into the night, tie dyeing, painting, and Play-Do creations.
Today, we went and got this table out of storage. I scrubbed it for two hours, and each minute of that time, I thought about this table and all the moments around it. We are going to have one more Christmas meal at this table. One more time before the chairs go live at another home and the table goes back into storage until my daughter is ready to refinish it. One more...one more table...and I finally realized what my obsession with tables is about. It isn't the table. It is what the table represents.  Tables are gathering places. They are places where memories are made. They are places where we live our life and share our stories. This table has lived about 25 years now. I hate to replace it, but I have to. My father in law's table is calling to me. It is an old table too-a Formica table with padded rolling chairs. I will need to scrub that one too, but as I do, I will think about all the moments we shared with him around that table. He is gone now, but the table is going to continue to live...at my house.
Hi, my name is Tina, and I have a table fetish. I am not in denial, and I don't need help to get over it. I am just going to sit down here at this table and plan the last Christmas meal I will share around it (That is until it finds new life at my daughter's house).

Not A Solo Venture

Today is December 16, almost one full month past my birth date. Not that that fact is any way important except that nearly 4 weeks of my 52 have already been used up. In these nearly four weeks, I have experienced some firsts (some not even on my list-UBER for example).

Two weekends back I took a trip to Austin, Tx with a group of teacher friends from Stanley. We went to go see comedian Eddie B. I haven't spent much time going to comic shows, can only recall a few times and nothing on this scale. I can't say it is something I ever want to do again, but I did enjoy the fellowship with people I dearly love. We had numerous conversations that weekend that usually began with, "Have you ever...and ended with me adding to my 52 list,. One of those conversations was, "Have you ever been to a Buc-ees? Me, "no," hence a pit stop at a Buc-ees. For those of you who don't know, it is a very large truck stop. I was impressed and wandered around the store for quite some time. I parked in the farm decor section and after much inner debate settled on a cast iron see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil pig hook for our camper which takes me to another story....the camper.

The camper represents this new direction we are moving in, but we realize that looking forward requires we also look backwards. We didn't get here by ourselves. We did't come to realize that choosing life was indeed a choice until we faced the truth of loss. Those loses continue to impact our living. I want to remember where we come from. I don't want to forget what we have learned. Every step of this 52 will be a redefining. Fast forward to today.

Today, my sweet friends and I went to an Escape Room. That was on my list. I hadn't done that yet. I told my friends Lyn and Vanessa-we spend all three of our birthdays together every year- that I wanted to do that this year. Two others, Jenny and Martha, joined us too. Five of us, all teachers, tried our hand at solving the puzzles and getting out of the Asylum. It was not at all what I expected, but we worked hard at figuring out, but did't make it in time. (I actually knew it would be tough for me because I am in no way a fast thinker!) Teachers, Asylum, we felt at home! It was a lot of fun and definitely something we want to do again, but that adventure isn't really what stuck with me today, what did was an epiphany-I am not alone in this new journey.

I began this 52 list with the thought that I wanted to live a life without regrets, but this list isn't just about me. It is about all the lives I share and how all of our lives are interconnected. Each item on this list involves someone else. I really began understanding that when the writing of a short story got me looking for a writing contest. I found one and told Kat about it. She jumped in and wrote a story, and she began blogging again, and she began thinking about her book again. I am thrilled. What I thought was happening was "me" exploring my new direction, but it wasn't just about me. It was also about her.  Her story is really good, and  I almost didn't write one because of hers, but I did write and I submitted it. (I will share mine a little closer to Christmas). Despite how it turns out, we shared a moment. We created a memory. We did that today too at The Asylum. We did that in Austin, and we did that last week at the camp ground. We will continue to do that with every new step. That "we" might just be my husband and I. It might be a friend I haven't seen in awhile. It might be one of my children or a grandchild.  It might be an old trusted friend, or maybe a new friend. Whoever shares these individual moments with me, I know this...this is not a solo venture.