Oh how I am enjoying all of these wonderful Christmas stories and memories.
Becki, you made me laugh out loud, telling of the various meals gone wrong.
Venia, your trips to the tree farm sound like a Norman Rockwell painting come to life!
Pam, isn't it wonderful to be the spiritual light during such a Christian filled time of the year.
JoanK., Oh dear, figuring out the time slots when another family has to be taken into consideration is so difficult. My grand daughter is dating, and so here we are once again trying to slot out times, to hopefully include him.
Barb, I'm with you, I too have a five disc cd player, and I love Christmas music. Only I have to admit, I have made myself a mixed cd of all the new renditions of Christmas songs, by pop and country artists. I love and enjoy these tunes so much, along with the old time favorites, and I made copies so I can listen to them in my car.
After reading
The Gift, it inspired me to write my very own true story of a Christmas long ago. Since we are in the season of sharing, I will share this with all of you. I am a published writer of poems, and have a children's Christmas story I wrote, and had my granddaughter illustrate for me that is about to be submitted for publishing. It is a long time coming and my confidence has held me back from submitting it sooner, although I have promised my granddaughter we will see it in print one day, one way or another. But...this story I am going to share today is not that one. So, be merciful when you read it, since it is a rough draft, and the first time I am sharing it with anyone other than loving family members.
A Christmas Long Ago by: Annabella Marie Patterfritz Reinhart
I'll tell you a story, Annabella said, about a Christmas long ago….when I was a little girl, around the age of three years old. I lived in a tiny three bedroom house my Daddy built from scraps of wood he could beg, borrow or steal, and railroad ties along the tracks, and other materials he could come by for free or cheap. Our tiny home was in a very small rural town of Monroe, in the countryside, with fields covered in snow. We had acres of land, yet a wee small house, that was home to me, my five sisters, my brother, my mother and stepfather, (after my Daddy was killed in a train accident.) We were very poor, with very little to eat at mealtime. We ate lots of potatoes and rice dishes to fill the hunger in our stomachs. We had very few toys to play with, since the only time we ever received any toys was at Christmas time. Each of us girls would get a new doll, and sometimes a tea set. So throughout the year my sisters and I would cut out any woman, man or child picture from newspapers or catalogs, to use as paper dolls. It would be the most fun times, especially if we could get our hands on a furniture catalog, which would allow us to have paper rooms of furniture.
In our very tiny house there was one bedroom on the main floor where my parents slept. Upstairs there were two open rooms, with slanted ceilings, and no doors, just an archway to separate the rooms. There were the seven of us siblings, sharing beds together in these two rooms. In the back bedroom there was a floor vent for the heat to rise up and keep us warm. We could look down through the grill vent and see into our tiny living room.
One Christmas Eve night we were all fast asleep. I’m not sure who heard the bells first, and who woke who up from their sleep, but we all crept silently to the vent in the floor, to peek down into the living room to see what was going on. The clanging of bells, we recognized as Santa sleigh bells that had awoken us, was still making their jingling noise. As we peered down into the vent, we saw the front door open. At first we saw a huge white Christmas box with green holly and red berries on it, being carried into the living room. Then we saw these big black, shiny boots, and red velvet pant legs with white furry cuffs, walk into the room. We all looked at each other in great surprise. Then very softly we heard Santa say to our parents, “Ho! Ho! Ho! You all have a Merry Christmas!”
We scampered back to our beds, our eyes so wide awake and in wonder at what we had just seen. We whispered; go back to sleep so Santa will not know we saw him. After all, we had heard the lyrics in the song enough times to know…….”You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows if you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.”
We fell back to sleep, woke up on Christmas morning to beautifully wrapped presents underneath our Christmas tree, stockings filled with candy, nuts and fruit, gifts for all, and at dinnertime, a feast for plenty to eat. As children who grew up in a very poor family, we had no doubt in our hearts; there truly is a Santa Claus.
Years later, one Christmas Eve night, when I was eight years old, sleeping in my bed in the bigger house we purchased, next door to the very tiny one my Daddy built, my oldest sister and her boyfriend awoke me in the middle of the night with their voices in our hall attic, saying, “Shhhh…. be quiet, don't drop the dolls, you don't want to wake them, or they will know there really is no Santa.” I lay there in my bed, silent, not wanting to make a move so; they would not know I had overheard them. I had tears in my eyes, and pain in my heart after hearing those words. I never told anyone about that night because no matter what I know I heard, I know the night I saw Santa through my bedroom floor vent was all the proof I needed, and I would not allow anyone to take that belief away from me.
Today, as a grandmother to six beautiful grandchildren, I see the joy and wonder in their small eyes each year as they help us put up our Christmas tree, bake cookies with us, and go to our annual Children’s Wonderland, where they visit Santa, to tell him what they want for Christmas, and I know in my heart…..Yes, Annabella, there really is a Santa Claus. Santa is not just a person; Santa is a spirit, a feeling of love, joy, laughter spread all over the world this time of year. Santa is a gift we give to each other, and to ourselves, because believing in the miracle of Christmas is what makes it so magical.
And yes, the Salvation Army who delivers to the needy, food, presents, and stockings, in white Christmas boxes with green holly and red berries, ringing sleigh bells and dressing up as Santa on Christmas Eve night, is indeed the spirit, the true gift of Christmas.
Now, we have an Elf on the Shelf named Annabella, who brings Christmas joy throughout our Advent season, reminding our grandchildren……You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town! [/i]
(Lyrics by Haven Gillespie)Another song comes to mind now that I am older; it is Josh Groban’s song,
Believe:
Believe in what your heart is saying
Hear the melody that's playing
There's no time to waste
There's so much to celebrate
Believe in what you feel inside
And give your dreams the wings to fly
You have everything you need…………………….. If you just believe.
