We set up the Christmas tree this weekend. Some of the ornaments have stories behind them. The tiny wooden toys; rocking horses and trains and airplanes and such, my wife picked those out for our first Christmas in that little quad down in Florida. The light-up ball depicting the Wise Men entering Bethlehem, my grandparents (long gone) gave us that. The tiny two-inch needle-point of a candle, my mom (also long gone) stitched and stretched that by hand. Also made by hand are a couple of bead embroideries that turn some plain store-bought glass spheres into works of art; my ex sister-in-law made those. Such a dear, sweet, talented lady; even though she's no longer officially part of the family, we still keep in touch with her. The Thomas Kinkade keepsake ornament given to us by my ex daughter-in-law; I know why she is no longer part of the family, but the beauty of the ornament reminds me that He whose birthday we celebrate instructed us to forgive one another as we have been forgiven. Many ornaments, some store-bought, some made by hand, given to the Sweet Lady by the parents of the children she taught, both in public school and then in that Montessori school that was really glorified day-care. She loved those kids, even the little stinkers, and they loved her. Surely they've grown up to have children and maybe even grandchildren of their own? Hanging on this side of the tree is a tiny stuffed pillow with the word "Love" stitched on it; up there is a tiny stuffed bear with angel wings. These were given with love to my wife by the UMW ladies at our church the year she was going through chemo, a time that changed her life and her faith forever.
Sigh. So many memories.