The moon shines brightly over our world tonight. The silence
deafens my ears. My skin begins to tighten as my body convulses in deep shivers
and fog billows in the air from the shallow breathing escaping my chest. I
don’t breath deep for fear the deep cold will ache my lungs. I pull the blanket
tighter around my body and gaze at the moon incessantly. Clouds are dancing in
the moonlight and comforting my soul. I am filled to the brim with contentment,
but I am restless.
The clouds blur and I am in the memories of my mind. They
transport me to that place that once existed, but is no more. I am 5 years old.
I can see and smell the season. Sharp pine fills my nostrils and the cinnamon
pinecones soothe the scents. There are gifts, wrapped in festive paper,
reflecting the lights of the tree. The fire is crackling and raging fiercely,
warming my little childhood home.
Mom and dad slowly make their way to the living room. Mom is
huge, her stomach is protruding baby number 3 and is ready to have the baby any
day now. I hope not today. I want to open gifts. My little brother waddles into
the living room, carrying his blankie. The smell of coffee rises and dad brings
a cup for each of them. He nods to show approval that we can open our gifts. I
rush in trying to find my name and my brother’s name, and start making piles of
wonder.
I cannot remember what I got that Christmas. I don’t recall
what we did after or what we had for breakfast. I just remember the joy. The love
we all shared as a family. The anticipation of a new sibling and the
contentment that filled our home, if only for a moment. Three days later, mom
had another child, a girl. I now had a sister and was delighted. I thought that
a new sister would certainly ease the tension between my mom and dad, that they
would find joy in her sweetness.
It did, for a short while, but it was not enough to ease the
pain my parents were experiencing, it was not enough to hold our little family
together. Six months after that Christmas, my dad left and my parents divorced.
My sister never experienced a Christmas with her entire family. Her first
Christmas was a broken one, with parents in two different homes. My brother was
too young to remember Christmas as a family, and can only see the shadows that
are left on photo paper.
I can hear the Christmas music playing in the background,
and hold the happy memory tight in my hand. It is a gift, a treasure that I
hold dear. My body starts to shiver. The clouds are moving rapidly and the moon’s
glow covers my face. I breathe hard and see the white billow from my lips. My
body is heavy from remembering. My mind is tired. I walk towards my front door
and turn the knob to go inside. The glow of lights is bright in my little
country house. The fragrance of Christmas is strong. I glance at all the
nativity scenes around my house that were my mom’s. I see the Christmas books
that my dad bought for me every year.
A smile creeps onto my face. I am here, that moment when you
realize that you are the parent who makes the memories for your children. I am
here, that moment when you realize you won’t have your children at home much longer,
as they go off to college and get married. I am here, that moment when you are
thankful for all you have in front of you.
The pain of brokenness from my childhood is but a distant
memory, one that motivated me to establish a whole and healthy childhood for my
own children. It was my resolve, my challenge, my hope. Together, my husband
and I established a family that cherishes one another and others. It was hard,
but well worth the work.
This year, my children each bought gifts for each other and
us. It was the first time they had ever done that. It was a treat. To see each
of them, delighted to share their love for each other by giving a gift. We had
an extra son with us this year, as well. Adopted into our family, almost a year
ago, when he had no place to go. He too, celebrated by giving each person a
gift. The love and generosity that filled the atmosphere was enough for me this
Christmas. It was the best gift of all.
At the end of the day, I peek out at the moon, the stars
glowing brightly, the clouds drifting slowly. I take it in, the memory of
today, Christmas 2015, and treasure it. I hold it close to my heart. Thankful
for the time we have to celebrate our Savior, thankful for the gifts he gives
to us.
