For some reason, this has been a rough Christmas season. I was late getting my shopping started. In fact, I’m not even done! We were late decorating. I don’t even have as much out as I normally do. All my normal organized planning has been skewed. We haven’t even watched our most beloved Christmas movies! And we’re not going to have any of our grandchildren this year…at least not on Christmas Eve or day. But Christmas is still coming…and with it the joy and memories of Christmas’ past, the love of family and friends, and most importantly the telling of and the rejoicing in the true meaning of Christmas…the gift of the Christ Child.
As I think back over all my life, what stands out to me as my fondest memories growing up and growing up my family, is just that…family. When I was little, we would go to my aunt and uncle’s for Christmas Eve for a fun party. I don’t remember a lot about those nights except for the homemade eggnog (two different bowls…one for kids, one for adults!), and the simple joy of being with family. One year as we were driving home, I “saw” Santa’s sleigh flying across the night sky and my folks said that he must be over on the south side of town and we needed to hurry and get home and in bed before he got to our side. ☺ Another year, as I leaned far to the end of my bed and peered into the living room, I was certain that I saw St. Nick putting the gifts under the tree. We had a party in my Mamie’s neighborhood every year where we got to sit in Santa’s lap. One year, I quietly recognized his watch. ☺ When I grew up, that same Santa photographed my wedding!
On Christmas morning, my ENTIRE family on mom’s side came to our house for breakfast…at 9:00am. My folks cooked scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits, milk gravy, and others brought sausage balls, and other breakfast yummies. There was usually 30-40 of us! Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…. It was glorious! It was loud. It was Family. It was Christmas. The quiet time alone with my nuclear family was always nice, but that wasn’t what made Christmas. The time with my big, wonderful, all encompassing Family was where my memories came from.
When I got married as a very young girl, those memories compounded, as my new family was as rich in tradition as my birth family. Christmas Eve was then filled with Polish food and traditions that will forever warm my heart. My children’s Christmas’ were also filled with family traditions. We were busy. It was crazy. We drove a lot! But no one ever seemed to mind because Family was worth the effort. And the memories are endless.
Today, it seems as if Family has been replaced somewhat by convenience, distance, and the desire to do one’s own thing. Back in the day, families lived closer together or simply knew they would be traveling to be with everyone. Christmas was perhaps a bit simpler or maybe just a different mindset.
Christ left us with two commands…1) Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind. And 2) Love your neighbor as yourself. It all comes down to this. The first is pretty obvious. The second one we sometimes get hung up on. Who is our neighbor and how exactly do we love them? Our neighbor is family, friends, and folks we haven’t even met yet. And to love someone as you do yourself is to put them first…because we unfortunately have no problem putting ourselves first. So love God and put others first. Sounds so simple.
So in these last moments before Christmas, may you be able to slow down just a bit during your last minute baking and wrapping and focus on the Christ Child and what He grew up to accomplish for us all. And may you have the opportunity to spend time with those most precious to you, and keep making memories.
Merry Christmas!
December 23, 2019
August 29, 2019
2019, August 29 – Are You Going to Die Today?
Today marks eight years since my leukemia diagnosis! The details of that day will be forever etched in my memory. But that’s not really what I wanted to talk about today. I’ve had this in my head and heart for some time but just haven’t taken the time to sit and write in down. I thought today would be a good day.
Other than my granddaughter, Dana, who is twelve, my other five grandchildren have no memory of me not having cancer. The only one that might have minimal recollection is Caleb, and he’s only nine. He was only one and a half when I was diagnosed. Ethan had just been born, and Jonah, Lily, and Elias were yet to be. So their whole lives have been accustomed to hearing that Tadee can’t do that or we can’t go see Tadee right now or Tadee isn’t strong enough to pick you up right now or playing peek-a-boo behind my mask. The first time we thought I was going to lose my hair, Dana and I played dress up with my wigs to help her feel more comfortable with the idea that “it’s just hair.” Every time I have gone into the hospital, the kids have come over for a special time together and a picture because I just don’t know when it’s going to be my time not to come home from the hospital.
But the thing that has gripped me the most is the innocent way they have embraced the reality of my situation. Especially Jonah. Last summer was really rough. I was in the hospital for almost six weeks, and it was pretty touch and go there for a while. It was scary to say the least. My grandchildren would FaceTime me, when I was able to, and it has been such a blessing over these years to still be able to communicate with them even when I wasn’t able to be with them in person due to my weakened immune system. But Jonah would always ask, whether on FaceTime or on the phone, “Tadee, are you going to die today?” And I would simply respond with a smile, “No. Not today, buddy.” And then he would ask the same thing the next time and the next. And my answer was always the same. No, not today, buddy.
Well, a year has passed and I am much more stable. Jonah hasn’t asked me that question in a while. But I know that it is only a matter of time that it will once again become part of my and their reality. Right now, Tadee can keep up a little better, not wear a mask except in the yard, and I can even pick a few of them up. I am thankful for every day God has gifted me. Eight years ago, we never expected that I would still be here. Hoped, prayed…yes. Expected…only with God. Now that I’ve gotten this far, our hope has expanded. But we still just take one day at a time.
And no, Jonah, I don’t think I’m going to die today. <3
Other than my granddaughter, Dana, who is twelve, my other five grandchildren have no memory of me not having cancer. The only one that might have minimal recollection is Caleb, and he’s only nine. He was only one and a half when I was diagnosed. Ethan had just been born, and Jonah, Lily, and Elias were yet to be. So their whole lives have been accustomed to hearing that Tadee can’t do that or we can’t go see Tadee right now or Tadee isn’t strong enough to pick you up right now or playing peek-a-boo behind my mask. The first time we thought I was going to lose my hair, Dana and I played dress up with my wigs to help her feel more comfortable with the idea that “it’s just hair.” Every time I have gone into the hospital, the kids have come over for a special time together and a picture because I just don’t know when it’s going to be my time not to come home from the hospital.
But the thing that has gripped me the most is the innocent way they have embraced the reality of my situation. Especially Jonah. Last summer was really rough. I was in the hospital for almost six weeks, and it was pretty touch and go there for a while. It was scary to say the least. My grandchildren would FaceTime me, when I was able to, and it has been such a blessing over these years to still be able to communicate with them even when I wasn’t able to be with them in person due to my weakened immune system. But Jonah would always ask, whether on FaceTime or on the phone, “Tadee, are you going to die today?” And I would simply respond with a smile, “No. Not today, buddy.” And then he would ask the same thing the next time and the next. And my answer was always the same. No, not today, buddy.
Well, a year has passed and I am much more stable. Jonah hasn’t asked me that question in a while. But I know that it is only a matter of time that it will once again become part of my and their reality. Right now, Tadee can keep up a little better, not wear a mask except in the yard, and I can even pick a few of them up. I am thankful for every day God has gifted me. Eight years ago, we never expected that I would still be here. Hoped, prayed…yes. Expected…only with God. Now that I’ve gotten this far, our hope has expanded. But we still just take one day at a time.
And no, Jonah, I don’t think I’m going to die today. <3
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