Mrs. Christmas...

For as long as I can remember I’ve loved the lights, and the music, and the hype, and the hustle of December.  Shopping doesn’t stress me out.  I don’t stear clear of the mall for an entire page of the calendar.  I don’t even mind wrapping football shaped presents that were never meant to be covered in paper, let alone sport a bow.  I’m the granddaughter of Mrs. Christmas and I consider my love of all the things associated with this month a welcome benefit of being loved by such an amazing woman.

I can’t remember a time she wasn’t wrapping something in shiny foil paper that became her trademark or making peanut butter fudge to give to friends.  She wrote cards by the dozens and always managed to have a little something for everyone she encountered during the Christmas season.  

While I think about her every day, there’s never a time she’s with me more than at Christmas and this year is certainly no exception. She’s everywhere in my memories this month. Is it just me?  Am I just paying more attention to every flocked tree and blue ornament?  Every “Lite Brite” ceramic tree and carol?  Every silver and gold decoration?  Don’t even get me started on the blue lights...

To me Christmas is time to reflect on the amazing gift God gave us in the form of his Son.  It’s a story of unconditional love to a power of infinitiy so I guess it’s only natural that when I think of that, I think of her.  Her love for me came with no strings, no prerequisites, and no performance reviews.

My grandma didn’t know me at the end of her life, recognizing me only for an instant here and there when it seemed the moon and stars aligned, but I knew her with my whole heart, that very same place her memory often grows so large I have to stop and catch my breath.