Updated: Nov 26, 2019
Remembering where we come from shapes us into who we are today.
Christmastime is my favorite time of year and I find myself tapping into the classic holiday music and movies earlier nowadays. The Advent season draws me in like a warm, cozy fire and the older I get, the longer I want it to last.
However, I am human and although I know what the season represents, I repeatedly fall short this wondrous time has to offer. Perfect gifts, traditions and the sparkle of material things can easily pull me away from the contented heart and mind I crave and the true meaning of Christmas. My priorities quickly get askew and I find myself staying up late, intently focused on getting my kids the last bit of "stuff" shopping online and giving myself permission to forego prayer time, daily gratitude or a 5 minute needed bible devotion.
Recently while looking for paper to revise my umpteenth Christmas gift list for my family, I stumbled across a letter my daughter had written to my husband and I her senior year in high school. Reading it immediately made me stop and pause. It was as if someone left it purposely for me to find. Inhaling with a refreshed mind and heart and exhaling the insignificant "stuff" that I can sometimes let override this glorious time, was exactly what I needed.
I AM FROM the countryside of Upstate New York with open fields and long windy roads. I am from the smell of burning marshmallows by the campfire after a long summer day. I am from Christmas Eve service while everyone sings by candlelight and having a party to celebrate, surrounded by family and an abundance of food. I am from rushing to open stockings, early Christmas morning, after waiting anxiously all night. I am from birthday celebrations surrounded by family and elaborate homemade cakes that change every year. I am from many nicknames that have changed over the years but I love them all the same. I am from shopping trips to the mall with my mother as my own personal stylist to ensure I buy the right clothes.
I AM FROM spinach and bacon filled quiche, with piles of fresh fruit ready to eat on Christmas morning. I am from fresh cookies out of the oven on a cold winter day with a tall glass of milk to wash down the chocolaty taste. I am from coloring eggs the night before Easter with endless patterns and colors and the smell of boiled eggs lingering for days. I am from the smell of fresh pumpkin seeds, roasting in the oven after a night of pumpkin carving.