Christmas stirs up so many memories. Hopefully most of the memories are of happy times with loved ones and may our hearts be touched by the message of the birth of Jesus.
I’ve had some wonderful Christmases and I’ve had some that weren’t very merry.
When I was newly married, my husband and I lived on a little farm in Oklahoma. It had been a hard year and almost everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. My husband lost his job in November and he was cutting fire wood and selling it for twenty dollars a truck load which barely kept us fed. We did have a few chickens and we were eating eggs three meals a day, I think I found twenty ways to cook eggs. I felt like if I ate many more eggs I was going to start growing feathers.
The week before Christmas we had sixty dollars in the bank, period and that was our “emergency” money. My husband and I agreed we wouldn’t buy each other gifts, not that we could have anyway, but I guess we were pretending it was a choice we were making and that made it easier.
My husband brought a big tumble weed into the house and said it was the best tumble weed on the farm. It had been such a dry summer none of our crops had survived and tumble weeds were the only thing growing in our garden.
I decided to use the tumble weed for a Christmas tree and I hung ornaments on it, I made a star from aluminum foil and stuck it on top. My husband was spending a lot of time in the barn and I knew he was making something to surprise me. I wanted to give him a gift so I decided to cut up an old winter coat and make a warm vest for him.
On Christmas morning he surprised me with a small bookshelf he’d made and painted with an old can of paint that had been in the barn for years. I was anxious to use my gift and put books on the shelves. Later I discovered the old paint had not dried and some of my books were ruined and others permanently stuck to the shelves. The paint never did dry, months later it was still sticky and we finally broke the shelf up and used it for firewood. The vest I’d made for him was really ugly and it was too small, he couldn’t wear it and eventually it was thrown away.
After a delicious Christmas dinner of scrambled eggs and toast we decided we’d walk to the top of our hill. Our farm was as flat as a table except for one hill. It was a crispy day but not cold and there was no snow but we waded in drifts of dried oak leaves. My husband took off his jacket and put it over my shoulders, I wasn’t cold and didn’t need it but I smiled at him. We held hands as we climbed the hill and we looked down on our farm. Our poor little farm that hadn’t even produced twenty pounds of potatoes this year. Our house was so old that we would joke it would fall down if the termites weren’t holding hands. The windows were loose and rattled when the wind blew. It was our first home and we loved it.
As the years went by we had four children, moved to a better farm, my husband had steady work and was able to support the family and we had big Christmas trees and lots of gifts and plenty of food to eat. My husband and I bought nice gifts for the children and for each other and for friends.
There was never a Christmas that one of us didn’t ask, “Remember the tumble weed Christmas?” and we’d smile. There was a sweetness about that Christmas that was never equaled again. I’m grateful for this blessed season, grateful for my family and friends and grateful we can remember happy times from years ago.
I wish all of you a happy Christmas and may you have memories that make you smile. Merry Christmas.
Crying Wind is the author of Crying Wind and
My Searching Heart, When the Stars Danced, and Thunder in Our Hearts, Lightning in Our Veins. All her books are available from Indian Life. Check catalog on page 19.
