“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.” – Luke 1:1 (KJV)
The Christmases of my childhood are all connected to this verse about taxes! Every single Christmas, my grandmother gave one of the grandchildren the “Christmas Story Assignment,” King James Version, of course. Before presents were opened and before the lime sherbet punch was consumed, we heard all about taxes and travel and stars and announcements. As a child, I grew impatient having to hear that same old story about Jesus being born and the shepherds being surprised by angels. After all, a huge mound of bow-topped gifts sat ready for us to open.
Mom and my son, Michael, in 1996.
But these days I miss that quiet moment. I miss watching my grandmother’s smiling face as she listened to the story being read by one of her “sweet” grandchildren. I miss sitting with all my cousins on the floor, while the aunts and uncles sat in chairs and on my grandmother’s pink sofa. But mostly I just miss my grandmother.
We called her Mom. According to family lore, she decided that she was much too young to called Granny or Grandma when her oldest grandchild was born–so she assigned herself the name “Mom.” And so Mom she was to us all.
Mom loved, loved, loved Christmas. She loved shopping for gifts–and she shopped for months and hid her purchases so well that she sometimes didn’t find them until well into February. She loved decorating her house, even making sure all the toilet paper rolls were covered with crocheted Santas. She hung NINE stockings on the fireplace–one for each grandchild, which she filled with candy and whatever fruit she found in her fridge on Christmas Eve. She loved making lime sherbet punch (lime sherbet mixed with Ginger Ale) every Christmas, and she served it in her crystal punch bowl from the dining room table. We all drank punch from the little crystal cups, and I felt so grown up getting to hold a pretty, breakable glass, but it was so small that I had to go back to the punch bowl five or six times to get my fill. Mom loved her house being filled with the chaos of grandchildren. She even enjoyed when Granddaddy rolled up his newspaper and chased us grandchildren around the living room, which resulted in LOUD shrieks and much laughter. And Mom loved, really loved, opening her presents. There is no one I know who could get so excited about unwrapping a box and finding a new pair of slippers or yet another box of chocolates. She would “ooohh” and “ahhhh” over every single present with great joy and sincerity.
Mom died in 1999, and Christmas hasn’t been quiet the same for me since. I find myself missing her most at Christmas.
Yesterday, when I was at Kroger, pushing my cart through the produce section, I looked up and saw a short, white-haired woman, sorting through the broccoli. It was a wet, miserable day outside, and the woman was wearing one of those plastic hair bonnets. And just for a moment, I thought she was Mom.I walked past the woman, unable to hold back my tears.
I am grateful for the reminder of Mom during this Christmas season, and I give thanks for the traditions she gave to our family. I give thanks that she taught us on Christmas Day and every day of of her life that the story of Jesus needs to be heard and lived out. I give thanks that she showed us how to share with one another, how to give wholeheartedly, and how to receive with gladness. I give thanks for Mom and for all the memories of her that warm my heart in this season.
I hope that your Christmas this year will also be filled with good memories and much joy.
May the love of Christ be with you today and all year long!
Pam Durso is the executive director of Baptist Women in Ministry, Atlanta, Georgia.