The Tumbleweed Christmas Tree

The following is a true story...

“Don’t expect too much for Christmas this year,” we heard our daddy say as we sat on the sofa listening. “We don’t have a whole lot of money and we don’t want you to be disappointed in the morning.” I was 12 at the time, my sister was 13. Our younger brothers were 9, 8, 4, 2, and a new baby. The year was 1960. Dad was a homebuilder and a recession had taken its toll on the economy. He was working hard to save his business and provide for his growing family.

Mama had found a huge tumbleweed that had blown up against our house and had brought it inside, sprayed it with white paint, and hung blue lights and shiny silver balls on it. That was our Christmas tree.

On Christmas Eve, we read from the Bible about the birth of the baby Jesus; and then we went to bed, but not with visions of sugarplums in our heads. Our anticipation of Christmas morning was filled with little hope that there would be much under the “tree”. Daddy had told us that no one was to get out of bed before 6:00am, so we snuggled under our covers for the night.

At 5:00am, we were awakened by the sound of bells and someone running up and down the hall singing, “Jingles Bells” at the top of his lungs. “Wake up, wake up,” Daddy was shouting excitedly. “Come and see what Santa has brought.” We jumped out of bed and ran out into the hall in our pajamas. Daddy lined us up, youngest to oldest, and led us into the living room where our tumbleweed tree was shining with bright lights. Underneath it, we found ice skates for me and my sister and inexpensive toys for our brothers. Mama had made us new dresses and new shoes were unwrapped. Our stockings were full of homemade candy, cookies and fruit. No children on earth were as excited as we were. We watched as mama and daddy opened the gifts we had made them in school. Tears came to their eyes as they watched their children hug their gifts to their hearts.

We didn’t get much for Christmas that year, but we received a whole lot more. We learned to have a grateful heart, a generous spirit, and to treasure the love of a family.

The next year, daddy sat us all down again and announced, “Now, don’t expect too much for Christmas this year….” And we looked at each other and smiled.

Example

"Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary." ~ St. Francis

Double Yum Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 - spice cake mix
1 - 15 oz. can pumpkin
1 - pkg chocolate chips

Mix together and drop by tablespoon on sprayed cookie sheet.
Bake @ 350 for 12-15 minutes or until firm.

Cool completely.

Pudding

This morning at church, I noticed our grandson was guarding his scripture bag closely. I thought, "How sweet that he loves his scriptures so much!!" Shortly after that, he opened his bag and inside were his Matchbox cars!! It reminded me of the time I begged my husband to go with me to an organ recital. He carried his scripture bag into the church, but during the recital I noticed his bag contained a Tom Clancy novel he was reading. Lots of things appear to be quite different on the outside than what they really are on the inside.

Take my house, for instance. I've always thought I had a pretty clean place, but the past month, I've been packing, cleaning, spackling, and painting. Once the bareness was exposed, the house had lots of scars. Another grandson, threw open a door the other day at his house and put a dent in the wall. Of course, his parents were not happy. He just looked at them and said, "Well, dad, you can just put some pudding in it!!" I'm assuming he meant "putty". As I've been patching up the house, I've thought how great it would be if we could just put some "pudding" in our own scars and make things all better. We all have scars that we've gathered along the way. An unkind word, a snub, an offense, just little knicks and scratches, but too often, we don't smooth things out and get on with our lives. We keep looking at those scars and feeling bad and they don't get any better. In fact, they get worse. Maybe that "pudding" is really a balm of forgiveness, understanding and love. We can find the recipe in our scriptures bags.

Fabric of our lives...

I just took a trip down memory lane as I was going through baskets of fabric. I used to sew quite a bit, not so much any more, but as I picked up each piece of left over fabric I would remember what I had used it for. As I discovered a piece of black and white checked flannel, I remembered the jumper I made our teenage daughter. To avoid her disappointment when she realized it was homemade, I took a GAP tag out of an old t-shirt and sewed it on the jumper. I wasn't as smart as I thought. She knew it wasn't from the GAP, who was I kidding? Another piece of fabric was from the dresses I made our two younger daughters for their older sister's wedding. Fabric from Christmas dresses and baby quilts. A lifetime of memories. I've heard it said before, "She who dies with the most fabric wins!!" I think I'm in contention for 1st place.

Technology

I wonder if Thomas Edison, Benjamin Franklin and others knew what they were starting. Did they know that someday people would be so dependent upon electricity that we would go into withdrawal without it? Case in point, I switched internet providers and while registering over the phone, my cell phone battery died. I took my blood pressure medicine while it was charging. I was beyond frustrated and I stopped to realize how addicted I am to all my gadgets. We take every modern convenience for granted and when we are deprived of them for any amount of time, we freak out!! At least, I do!! As for me, I'm about ready to join the Amish. Their lives seem so simple. So free from the craziness we inflict upon ourselves. Modern technology is wonderful, but at what cost? Oops, I gotta go, I just received a text message.

Music

I've been singing for as long as I can remember. My sister and I have sung together since we were very young. Our family reunion was held every summer and included a talent show. We would sing together accompanied by our uncle on his guitar. Grandpa also played the piano and his harmonica. My sister sang the melody and I sang harmony. We sang at retirement homes, church programs, and when we were older, funerals and weddings. When I was eight years old, my dad put a new roof on a home owned by the local piano vendor. Instead of payment, he brought home a brand new piano. I learned to play and accompanied my sister and I as we sang. When I was 14, I was the pianist for the junior Sunday School and when I was older I learned to play the organ as well. Music has been a huge part of my life whether singing lullabies to my children or just singing in the shower. It has shaped my life and defined who I am. I know I have passed my love for music on to my children and hopefully my grandchildren. Music is eternal...