I could not find the stockings.
Couldn’t find them. Gargantuan plastic green tubs of holiday decorations and ribbons galore and I could not find my beautiful felt and embroidered stockings. Traditions.
I did find a pair of old-fashioned red and grey striped hunting socks – you know the kind. They are the pair of socks you truly do not wish to admit to owning, with those ‘almost holes’ in the heels and grungy grey toe parts and balling up on the outside after too many washes. (They are the perfect socks.)
Turns out they are the perfect Christmas stockings too. Maybe that is the way new traditions are born? Or, maybe it is the way a person returns to their own traditions….
I have found that maybe a bit of whirlwind during the time leading up to Christmas might have been a blessing. There were moments I would look, almost study the Christmas tree gracing my home. Memories. Then remembering a year ago. Tears. Lots of tears. We all have those moments when you remember the happiest of Christmases, but for some of us, there are also those snapshots of memory one would wish to erase from ones heart. For me, it was the memory of a year ago.
And I cried. But a funny thing happened when I opened my eyes to look at the tree once more.
A beauty all its own…..Tears and Christmas tree lights. Maybe the pain made the light shine that much bigger?
May your Christmas….be Christmas. Through tears, through lights of kindness and all…
Love to all!