When I graduated from college in 1969 I decided it was time to send my own Christmas cards. It sounded like a grown-up thing to do. I bought something manly. I avoided cards that featured poinsettias or Christmas trees. No pictures of wrapped packages, Santa Claus, Frosty the Snowman, Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or mistletoe for me. I avoided nativity scenes, the three wise men, and anything biblical. It wasn’t that I wasn’t religious, but such cards weren’t my style. I opted, instead, for a picture of a roaring fire in a fireplace. I’d never had one and hoped one day I would.
The box of cards lasted two years. I sent few and was very selective when sending them out. Perhaps I was too cheap to spend the money, or too involved with my own interests to invest the time. In any case, I sent few, and after Ruth and I married I gave up the sending of cards altogether. I appreciated receiving them, and enjoyed the notes that some people wrote, but didn’t step forward to create my own tradition. As our circle of friends increased, we received more cards. Then we started to get yearly letters that summarized the family events of our friends and relatives. I appreciated the news and read each one with great interest. For many, it was, and still is, the only time I hear from them. As the cards collect I am reminded of the good times I’ve shared with very special people.
When the kids were young, Ruth and I, a few other couples and all of their kids, went Christmas caroling. We’d meet at one of our homes, complete a Christmas craft, have cookies and hot chocolate, and go caroling. We didn’t walk from house to house, but rather, drove to visit a select few people we thought would truly appreciate seeing and hearing all of us. Most of the homes we visited were older couples, or single friends, living alone. I still remember gathering on Leonard’s porch the first time. We could see him working at the kitchen table, deeply engrossed in the task at hand. After he came to hear the visiting carolers, he told us he was working on his “Christmas card list”. He went on to explain that he kept a list of people he sent Christmas cards. He had their names and addresses in a loose-leaf notebook. He cross referenced his list with the cards he received each year, and if you didn’t send him a card for two years in a row, he stopped sending a card to you. If all my friends were like Leonard, I’d never get a card.
Like my birthdays, I spend part of the Christmas season reflecting. The cards help. This past year has been particularly difficult for everyone. Ruth and I have voluntarily doubled up on life’s changes by selling our home of 43 years and purchasing a condo. The lake home had two fireplaces like the one in my first Christmas cards in 1969. We had a non-stop fire during the kids’ early years. We hung their stockings on the mantel and disposed of our Christmas wrapping paper in its roaring fire. The fireplace and the lake were my two favorite parts of the house. We used one in winter and the other all summer.
As the kids grew up and moved, we used each less and less. And as much as I like living in Florida during the cold winter months, Christmas doesn’t feel the same here. In my perfect world, there would be snow one day a year, Christmas. I’d wake up in the morning, open presents, let the kids sled down our hill for an hour, and have it melt by noon. But as we all know, the world’s not perfect. Sometimes a Christmas card can change the day.
Ruth and I received such a card from our son, Michael, on Monday. It wasn’t particularly fancy or religious. It featured five homes on a snow covered hill. The five homes reminded me of the original five in our family, Ruth, David, Elizabeth, Michael and me. Its message was simple, but struck a deep cord with me. Home is about the people, not the place.
Home is a hug waiting at the front door and knowing that all the smiles are just for you.
Home is feeling instantly loved, no matter what, by the people who matter most.
Home will always be wherever you two are … and that’s the best gift of all.
On this Christmas, though our family may be spread about the country, everyone is home in our hearts.