Blessed

  A memory of Christmas past. When I was just a young man going to church, we had Jesus's birthday party. In the parish hall we all sang Christmas carols together, had hot cocoa and cookies. There was a big Christmas tree and all the decorations. The story of Christmas was told and the birth of Jesus was celebrated. There was cake, of course. After a bit you would hear the jingle of sleigh bells and Santa would appear! He took his seat at the front of the hall next to the tree. Every child there got a present from Santa. I can't honestly say I remember what those presents were but some small token I'm sure. When it was over, we all got a box of hard candy, those little boxes like animal crackers came in. It was an exciting time for certain. Nothing too extravagant by todays' standards, just a simple hometown affair. 

 As the years passed and I grew older the party changed a bit. It became something for the little kids. I joined in knowing the secret. Santa Claus was really Mr. Ed. He was the verger although I didn't know that title and just knew he took care of the church. When I was older, I helped him change the lightbulbs high up in the church. I didn't mind climbing up that very tall ladder. It was an old wooden ladder and swayed a bit. The highest point was above the altar. Reverend Davis, the rector of the church would be there sometimes and reassure me if I fell there could be no better place. I responded with a nervous laugh, you're right about that. I would get the boxes of candles out of the basement for him too. A dark and dusty place with these old wooden shelves that looked ready to crumble. A bit of a creepy place. But it was God's basement, so I figured it was safe enough. Santa Claus kept his sleigh bells down there as well. 

 All of that was more than fifty years ago. I don't live in that area anymore and so don't attend that church. I wonder if they still have the birthday party, the candlelight service on Christmas Eve and those sleigh bells. I remember going caroling with the church bus and coming back to hot chocolate and cookies the Moms' had made while we were gone. All memories of a time long gone. Memories of the others I shared all that with. So many gone now, so many I haven't seen in decades. Memories of Christmas past. I really did have a blessed childhood. Blessed with the place I was born, the place I grew up in and the people I knew. Blessed to have such good memories.

  Yesterday the wife and I was given a gift from our granddaughter. It's a picture of our house drawn digitally to look like a pencil sketch. On the bottom is written, " The house full of love" My granddaughter had written a few passages on the back, very sentimental, very sweet, and must have used some mysterious ink because my eyes began to water a bit while reading those words. She said how it was the only house she remembers us living in and how much she enjoys coming to visit. She recounted the times we shared baking, playing games, telling stories and just being together. It did touch me deeply knowing that she has such good memories, memories for her to cherish in the future. That knowledge is the greatest gift I could receive. Our memories are an insurance policy, and hers are paid in full. A gift that lasts forever. I am double blessed.