When I was younger, Christmas always seemed a time of possibility. I kept a seed store of secret dreams buried deep. As a
teenager and even when I was home from college, I loved to walk outside
at night, smelling wood smoke and picking out my favorite light
displays in the neighborhood. I'd think that maybe this was the year that some boy would think I was pretty and fall in love with me. I'd imagine we'd set up a small house somewhere and it would be capital "H" happy.
Christmas memories from my childhood survive only if they were extreme. Every once in awhile, my sister will ask, "Do you remember the sleds?", referring to the year my parents divorced. They bought us so much that the gift opening seemed to go on for hours. All the gifts were stacked up in big sleds for us to play with in the snow. We used them, first, to cart our haul back to our rooms. I know our parents meant for us to remember it as a wonderful Christmas. I remember it as a BIG Christmas.
If my grandma was there, she always arrived from Iowa with grocery bags full of home baking. Cans of beans, tomatoes, frozen strawberries and apple butter - all made with things from her garden. She usually brought handmade quilts for my sister and I or little things from Avon. It wasn't "big city", but I realize - now too late - how much she thought about me and what I might like.
There was the year my mother was so depressed that my gift was a free coffee mug she had gotten from work, all balled up in newspaper with a post-it note for a gift-tag. My grandma died and decorating stopped, cooking stopped, lots of things stopped. We stopped dressing up, we stopped going to candlelight services, we just stopped.
Ten years later, in a fit of optimism, I got married for the second time - on Christmas Day in 2004. It was a good thing. I became part of a much bigger family and they make me happy. I'm still adjusting to the time challenge of shopping for fifteen people instead of three. It takes a lot to negotiate everyone's expectations about what the holidays should, or should not, be. And my expectations are the highest in the bunch. All those teenage imaginings about what a happy family would do during the holidays rise up and attack me.
The first year I hosted Christmas dinner, I stood in front of my holiday table and realized why my grandma always insisted on taking a photo before we ate. It was hours of work and love - and would be gone in a flash. Though I loved what my grandma did for us, I don't think I really understand the nature of that gift until I took it on myself. And I don't do in a year for others what my grandma did in one week. Some of the more cynical people in my family have said that my grandma wasted her life, always putting others first.
This family has so much. I was really down last week after a conversation I had over gifts. I try to put the heart-give back in Christmas, buying handmade or making something personal. I spend about $50 on a gift card and then I take time to choose something personal - something I'm pretty sure they'll want and like. But different family - different expectations. I don't spend enough compared to what they are used to. It's not the first time I've been told, I'm just a slow learner. It hurt. A lot.
I guess when I think of a good Christmas, I think of my grandma and the things she made. That's who I want to be. So I thought of three people I love - but never get to see - and then baked them each a box of homemade cookies. They are seeds of love wrapped in plastic.
Thanks for listening. And here's the recipe for Chocolate Chip Peppermint Crunch Crackles.
*By the way, if you want to watch a good movie about baking for people you love, not being understood, and running away with your sweetheart, check out "Bonjour Monsieur Shlomi".
Christmas memories from my childhood survive only if they were extreme. Every once in awhile, my sister will ask, "Do you remember the sleds?", referring to the year my parents divorced. They bought us so much that the gift opening seemed to go on for hours. All the gifts were stacked up in big sleds for us to play with in the snow. We used them, first, to cart our haul back to our rooms. I know our parents meant for us to remember it as a wonderful Christmas. I remember it as a BIG Christmas.
There was the year my mother was so depressed that my gift was a free coffee mug she had gotten from work, all balled up in newspaper with a post-it note for a gift-tag. My grandma died and decorating stopped, cooking stopped, lots of things stopped. We stopped dressing up, we stopped going to candlelight services, we just stopped.
Ten years later, in a fit of optimism, I got married for the second time - on Christmas Day in 2004. It was a good thing. I became part of a much bigger family and they make me happy. I'm still adjusting to the time challenge of shopping for fifteen people instead of three. It takes a lot to negotiate everyone's expectations about what the holidays should, or should not, be. And my expectations are the highest in the bunch. All those teenage imaginings about what a happy family would do during the holidays rise up and attack me.
The first year I hosted Christmas dinner, I stood in front of my holiday table and realized why my grandma always insisted on taking a photo before we ate. It was hours of work and love - and would be gone in a flash. Though I loved what my grandma did for us, I don't think I really understand the nature of that gift until I took it on myself. And I don't do in a year for others what my grandma did in one week. Some of the more cynical people in my family have said that my grandma wasted her life, always putting others first.
This family has so much. I was really down last week after a conversation I had over gifts. I try to put the heart-give back in Christmas, buying handmade or making something personal. I spend about $50 on a gift card and then I take time to choose something personal - something I'm pretty sure they'll want and like. But different family - different expectations. I don't spend enough compared to what they are used to. It's not the first time I've been told, I'm just a slow learner. It hurt. A lot.
I guess when I think of a good Christmas, I think of my grandma and the things she made. That's who I want to be. So I thought of three people I love - but never get to see - and then baked them each a box of homemade cookies. They are seeds of love wrapped in plastic.
Thanks for listening. And here's the recipe for Chocolate Chip Peppermint Crunch Crackles.
*By the way, if you want to watch a good movie about baking for people you love, not being understood, and running away with your sweetheart, check out "Bonjour Monsieur Shlomi".
i just want you to know how much i love you AND your creativity. i feel the love, care and effort you put into all your projects. i wouldn't have it any other way! i wish i was as inspired and talented as you. i know we (your family)can be jerks at times, and i apologize. PLEASE don't let us stifle your amazing gift. don't worry...the ones who don't "get it" now will one day. just like you and your grandma ;o) you're the best judy. xoooo
Posted by: alison | December 22, 2008 at 05:22 PM
Thank you for sharing in this post and for reminding me of my own sweet grandmother's unselfish love. When I look at my own little granddaughter I feel such deep desire and overwhelming responsibility to nurture her the way my grandmother nurtured me. I pray I can do it as well as she did.
Posted by: Stevi | December 20, 2008 at 06:39 PM
I should add, by the way, that when I add something personal to the $50 giftcard, I'm often spending another $50 or $100.
Posted by: Heidi | December 20, 2008 at 09:49 AM
it always hurts when the people we give to reject what we have to give.
$50 *and* something thoughtfully chosen?! seems above & beyond to me.
i have made the mistake of spending months handcrafting a gift for someone who said "wow! um .. thanks!" and then set it aside and never looked at it again. i finally learned my lesson there. as much effort as we put in, if the other person can’t appreciate it...
i hope you have a wonderful christmas!
Posted by: Lori | December 18, 2008 at 02:22 PM
Thanks, ladies, for caring enough to be offended on my behalf. I was really down when it happened, but it was a good reminder not to pin your self-esteem on the reactions of others. Like Cuba Gooding Jr.'s wife said in the movie Jerry Maguire, "WE determine our worth." Thanks to God, anyway.
Posted by: Heidi | December 18, 2008 at 08:31 AM
i think i might put up that tree i've been ignoring the past week. seemed like such a hassle but like your cookies, its about the memories not gifts--that's where the true magic is. :)
Posted by: Loreli | December 17, 2008 at 11:26 PM
$50 is an inadequate gift? Helloooooo, we're in an economic recession! Some people need a reality check.
Posted by: Carol | December 17, 2008 at 06:46 PM
Wonderful words from all to make us think...
My thought is that just like you now appreciate so much your grandmother's thoughtfulness, so too might those who are the naysayers of you now. The best we each can do is to be true to who we are, do what we think is right and good. What others do with that is beyond our control. Easy to say - harder to let the criticism go, I know.
I love the bible verse "Let all you do be done in love". Seems like that's exactly what you did with your cookie gifts!
Posted by: Ann from Montana | December 17, 2008 at 05:09 PM
That is a really good post. Makes me think about christmases past. We always used to roll our eyes at gramma's handmade, time-and-thought-intensive gifts, but those are the ones I most appreciate now. I'd give anything for another handmade quilt from her today. And a taste of her home made rolls and bread - I miss those too. She was really the center of our little family, wasn't she. It's a lot harder now that our center is gone. Good thing you have Mike's big family to share.
I'll always appreciate the handmade things you give me. They matter more than any gadget would.
Posted by: teent | December 17, 2008 at 02:56 PM
The memories are wonderful, I try every Christmas to remember something warm and wonderful and write it down so I can linger with that thought a little longer. The bummer of Christmas sure is the "getting" part. I am so sorry for your major let down. How disappointing. Maybe that person should be scratched from the list for a while. (I know, like that would ever happen.) I don't know how to pass on the Christmas spirit, except to offer the giving traditions (not necessarily gift giving mind you). I don't know how to help people understand the joy of thoughtful responsible giving (instead of the demand of getting).
Don't let it bring you down, the cookie idea is so wonderful and special. My solution is to do things that make you feel good and happy. Stay away from the bummers as best you can and enjoy the best part of the holidays, giving and being together. (and all those cookies) and don't forget to throw some "ho ho hos" in there... xo
Posted by: zannestar | December 17, 2008 at 01:59 PM
Lovely post, well captured memories. This made me think of my grandmother and her ability to make us all feel like we were the best thing since her home-baked sliced bread. With butter. I miss her too.
Posted by: juliejulie | December 17, 2008 at 01:28 PM