Shhhh....

I can't tell how many times I've written about snow. I can count at least three (including this one) on this blog. But for years and years, I've written about in diaries and journals. But it seems no matter how much I write about it, I can never really express the true magic and wonder that fills the air whenever it snows.

It snowed again today. I went into the library to go check out some Christmas books, and when I stepped outside, it was falling. And after a quick trip to Walmart for some much needed Christmas wrapping supplies (including both duct tape and packing tape), I came home and announced I would be going for a walk.

So indeed, I went. I grabbed my iPod, threw on my warm boots and bomber hat and stepped outside into the glittering white snowglobe. And really, oh the beauty. There's something inexplicably thrilling yet calming as you walk through the white winter wonderland.

I passed by homes and businesses all lit up, people bustling inside with love and laughter. I walked through the streets covered in a soft white blanket, not yet pounded by feet and tires. I wandered around town, looking up at the streetlights and wreaths attached to them, seeing the snow fly down towards the ground. I passed by churches, candles lit from the inside.

And while there's a thrill of excitement, I often times find myself wanting to say "shhhh..." I'm really not even sure why. Perhaps it's a suggestion for others, to stop hustling and bustling with the deadline of Christmas morning looming and simply enjoy the blessings of the season. Perhaps it's God telling me to "Be quiet and listen." But whatever the reason, it's quite calming.

I think the thing that most resounds through the holiday season is the presence and importance of family. Whether it's yours or a stranger's, it's not only important but inspiring when you just sit, watch, and listen. Be still and take a moment to soak in what's around you. Families hustling around the kitchen, making a Christmas meal. Co-workers laughing together at a business. A father toting home his daughter in a sled through the snow. It's amazing what you can discover and encounter just by watching. So as a reminder to you all, just... "shhh..." Stop and listen, watch, just to experience the joys, sights and sounds of the holiday season.

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The best tree

I've always been a traditionalist at heart. I like to sit in the same chair at the dinner table. I like to eat my cereal out of the same bowls I have since I was a young girl. I even had a hard enough time when my mother decided to buy new furniture for our upstairs living room. I had an even harder time getting used to the new dish set she bought some five years ago. I like things the same. Through the years, changes have had to be made. Some of them small, like the dishes. Some of them big, like moving, and moving again, and yet again. And because of moving, things changed. And knowing there was nothing I could do, I just had to let it be.

But there was one thing that hasn't changed through the years: our family decorating the Christmas tree together. We put on Christmas music, and start decorating away.

Earlier this holiday season, my roommates and I set up our own tree. I had brought the old plastic one from home that we never use anymore (as we've elected to get the real-deal for the past many years.) It took us a while to get the whole thing completely decorated, between schedules and time-constraints. We set up the tree one afternoon. Then we strung popcorn and cranberries several days later. And the next week, Mia finally put some of her ornaments up. And just a few days ago, I finally bought Christmas bulbs and candy canes, that night hanging them on the tree. I even painted a few of them with glitter, spelling out our names on them. But as I hung the shiny Christmas ornaments, I felt a sense of...complacency. Just, blah. I didn't feel the excitement, the thrill, and the joy that comes with the memories formed with each ornament. Oh, it's a pretty tree. And in our its own way, it represents a new beginning. New traditions. New beginnings. But sometimes new is hard.

I was supposed to go home one weekend to help set up the family Christmas tree. I was nearly packed and ready to go! But luck and true Minnesota weather had it that it would snow. And not just snow, but really snow and snow and snow. It snowed so much that malls closed on the second busiest day of the year. As a matter of a fact, everything closed. It snowed so much it was the fifth largest blizzard in the metro area on record.

In the meantime, I had called my parents, letting them know I could not make it home, and now this meant I most likely wasn't going home until two days before Christmas. I told my dad, "You guys need to get in the holiday spirit. Go ahead and decorate without me, and I'll just have to deal with it." I was trying to be ok with it, but really, I wasn't.

This past weekend, I had from Saturday night to Monday afternoon off. So I called up dad and I said, "I'm coming home!" The way this time of year goes, it had whisked away without a chance for them to decorate the tree. So I came home and was ready to bring the holiday cheer with me. And finally, the Minnesota weather gave me a break. I headed home Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon, we were setting up the tree.

First came the lights. Dad loathes Christmas lights. I think he just gets tangled and can't make them stay the way he wants. But for years, it's always been my mother and I putting up the Christmas lights, and in recent years, the sister has helped. And as every year happens, there weren't enough to go around. So of course I was sent out to go pick up some more Christmas lights. (It really is a big tree.) We finished stringing the lights, and then came my favorite time.

We plugged in the Christmas music and dug out the ornaments. We are an ornament family. Through the years, we've collected so many, that I think each year our tree has to grow nearly exponentially for them all to fit. As Johnny Mathis and Bing Crosby crooned their Christmas tunes, we sifted through our favorite ornaments, each representing some memory. I had my "shoe" ornaments - (one is an actual miniature white lace heel, the other says, "If the shoe fits, buy it in every color.") I have my ugly homemade ornament I made in the first grade, or the glitter star with a picture in it from second grade. There's the ornament given to me from my Sunday school teacher and "other mom" Mary Anders. The clear glass ornament is stuffed with a picture of me in my favorite yellow frilly dress from the 3rd grade. And then there's the ornament given to me from my preschool teacher, a "July" precious moments angel, and even a Barbie Collectors Christmas ornament. Oh, and a Vikings ornament, which is technically dad's, but I might claim for myself here soon.
As I go through each of the ornaments, whether they're mine or my sisters, or sift through my parents' ornaments from when they first got married, I am reminded of memories that are attached to them.



Part of it isn't even the ornaments, it's just being with my family, shuffling back and forth from the ornament boxes (yes, there are more than one) to the tree as we sing along to whatever song is playing. (My sister now even sings along to the Hallelujah Chorus.)

My mother, after it was finished, made a comment that said, "It's the memories and the love that make it so beautiful." And how true that rings. It doesn't have a pretty theme, and it might filled with too many ornaments, both beautiful and ugly alike, but it's the love and the memories that fill the tree that make it special.

After the ornaments came the tinsel, and after the tinsel came the gold bows. And the star, of course, which came actually before the ornaments - we've learned that the bigger the tree, the harder it is to put it on after the ornaments.

I'm not really sure what to make of this, if there's a lesson to be learned or a thought to be processed. But I know that our tree, this year named McKinley (because of it's massive size and a family member in Washington), is one of the most beloved. Oh, what it is to come from such a loving family.

But whatever happens for Christmases future, I know that these memories will never be taken from me. And although it frightens me to let my family go and begin my own, whenever that may be, I'll be excited to start new memories on a new tree.

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