The children know that spreading this kind of Christmas cheer around the house is not my forte. In fact, when Jack was about eight, he got so fed up with my humbuggedness that he stomped up to the attic and hauled all the decorations down to his room and created his own version of a winter wonderland. He staged wooden nutcrackers on his dresser, arranged snow globes on his bedside table, hung the Santa Claus made from panty hose and the reindeer made from a brown sock on his walls, and strung strands of colored Christmas lights from his ceiling, held in place with scotch tape. Years later, the lights were gone, but the tape remained.
This year posed a special challenge for me. The Christmas decorations were packed away in boxes piled high in the basement of the house we are renting. The house is much smaller than our Rainbow Drive house, with not an extra cubic foot of space for a tree. I was hoping no one would notice that I had "forgotten" to get in the spirit...that my heart was too small.
But then sister-in-law Gay sent me a photo of Aunt Gladys (age 96) who already had figured out a way to decorate her walker and is looking forward to a car ride around Owensboro to look at all the lights. With Gladys as my inspiration, my heart grew three sizes today. I got busy and put up the tree, strung it with lights and then hauled it out onto the terrace.
|Deck the halls and the walkers|
I unpacked our 1940's-era manger scene and carefully placed Baby Jesus up in the loft to await his arrival on Christmas Eve.
I pulled the spear out of St. Patrick's hand and replaced it with a evergreen sprig, removed the snake at his feet, and placed him on our mantle posed as the Christmas Angel, ready to bring the glad tidings of great joy to anyone who is willing to listen.
Peace on earth, good will to all.