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| << December07, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Bell Stood Alone |
December21, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - I found My Tree >> |
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Hi, Gang - my family. I'm sorry for being late posting my weekend story. The weekend was a chore. It took me two days to put our Christmas tree up. I took it easy because of my back pain. This is a story that has changed over the years. I used to call it "Magical Tree." This year I call it "Memory Tree." It grows longer as new memories are added. It is my personal favorite. I'm hoping it will become yours. Last week I wrote about "Little Bell." She plays a major role in this story as well. I hoped to have 1000 members by the end of the year, but I'm falling short. I'm stuck at 850 members. If I include the members who have not confirmed their membership, then I reached my goal. I really can't count them though. More than 100 of them have been in that state for months. Help me reach my goal. I think you'll enjoy tonight's story. If you do, please pass it on to your friends. Add the link to join our family. Check below the story for comments on my last few stories and link to my story page. There are too many to include all of them, but I promise, if you email a comment, I will reply. I believe, if someone takes the time to email me a comment, they deserve a reply. Afterall, we are family. If anyone is interested, check the link to Ginny's craft site. She has a lot of wonderful crafts and cards for the Christmas season available. http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=94275 Now for today's story. Memory Tree I pull the boxes of ornaments from the closet and prepare myself for a trip into the past. No photo album can bring back as many memories as my box of ornaments. Like a picture, each ornament contains a memory. There's the box of wooden ones, handmade and painted with care. Within the assortment is a small man on skis, a mouse on a swing, even Santa in his sleigh. I remember when my Georgia and I had bought them. It was our first Christmas as a married couple. We hung them on the tree and dreamed how our future children would love them. I pick up a ceramic Santa. My aunt gave it to me when I was four. He holds a tiny box in his hands. There's a tear in it's wrapper, a tear caused by a boy who couldn't contain his curiosity. A tiny brass bell is next. My brothers and I had fun with this bell. We took turns hiding it in the tree. The others had to find it. We played "Find the Bell," until mom yelled at us for shaking the tree to make the bell ring and reveal its hiding spot. Mom knew how much the bell meant to me. The year I had my own family, she gave me the bell. I played the same game with my own children. I pick up a pretty red ball. My daughter touched it when she was two. We'd put Vanessa down for her nap and decorated while she slept. We wanted to surprise her. When we finished, I sat back with a glass of eggnog and waited for her to wake. I see her face again. She ran from her room, fully charged and ready to take on the world. She was five feet from the tree, before she looked up and stopped. Her eyes opened wide. Her jaw dropped open, as she emitted a small cry of delight. She walked forward, raised her hand, and touched a red ball - the ball now hold in my hand. She turned to me. Her eyes reflected the colored lights. "Daddy, what is it?" "It's Christmas, Sweetie." My voice quivered with emotion, "It's Christ's birthday. We're going to celebrate it." Her sparkling eyes, hanging jaw, and soft skin made me hold my arms out. She ran into them and gave me a hug that could melt even Scrooge's hard heart. I pick up a cracked green ball, a veteran of the first time I allowed my kids to decorate the tree. They hung all the balls on one branch. When they turned for another, I quickly moved the one before it to a better spot. I laughed when they told Grandma they decorated all by themselves. Near the bottom of the box, I find a brass plaque. It brings back a special memory. It has my son's name and birth date on it. Justin was supposed to be a New Year's Eve baby, but he decided he wasn't going to miss Christmas. Justin was three weeks old, when we took him to the Christmas Eve service at our church. That night, our minister explained to us the real meaning of Christmas. As she spoke, she wandered down the aisle and stopped beside us. She reached down and asked, "May I?" I nodded and handed him to her. She lifted him into her arms. She was quiet as she walked back to face the congregation. Turning, she held my son high and said, "This is the real meaning of Christmas: The birth of a new life!" She cradled my son as she spoke, but the ringing in my ears prevented me from hearing her words. Tears glistened on my cheeks, as she walked around the sanctuary displaying my son to those gathered for the Christmas service. The room was empty of everyone but her and my family. Overtaken with emotion, I reached out and hugged Georgia and Vanessa to my side, and thought, "This will be a Christmas to remember." In 2003, I pulled the ornaments out again. Justin and I were not going to be home for Christmas that year. We were going to spend Christmas with friends in Ohio, but I wanted Christmas to be the way it always was. I wanted Christmas to be the way Justin remembered. Georgia died two months earlier. Justin and I were alone in New Jersey. Vanessa was in Ohio. It had to be the way it was before - the tree perfect. The ornaments - the memories - had new meaning that Christmas. The memories of her death were raw, but the tree over came them. A tear trickled from my eye. Good things may pass, but their memories hang on. Last year I hung a new ornament on our tree. It was one I got for Ginny. It's a penguin. She loves penguins. This year, I have one she gave me to hang. It's a frosted ball with a penguin dressed in an Ohio State football colors - my favorite team. New pages added to my album. I hang my personal album for all to see, sit back and relax. For several weeks, I search my memory tree, until I find my special spot. I don't know where it is, but I know it's there - a spot where light shines perfectly on one or two balls and reflects off a length of tinsel. It's perfect in every way. I lock my eyes on it and enjoy its beauty. I relive my life. It's there for all to enjoy. I invite you to share it with me. Look at the ornaments. Flip the pages. Share my life. It's my memory tree. Michael T. Smith To read more of my stories or to sign up for my twice weekly posts, go to: http://archives.zinester.com/86758/ Please send your comments to mtsmith@qwestonline.com and send the story to your friends. Now for comments from the last few stories. Mike: this story is so beautiful...... BRAVO, my friend, BRAVO. TANNIA **************** Mike, I love that story! It would make a great children's book. I can see the pages and illustrations clearly as I read it. I hope someday you get to make it into a children's book. My grandchildren and my son would love it! Hope you continue to feel better! HUG Love, Patty ************* To read more stories: http://archives.zinester.com/86758 To unsubscribe from my ezine: http://www.zinester.com/cgi/unsub.cgi?86758&0& |
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| << December07, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - The Bell Stood Alone |
December21, 2006 - Hearts and Humor - I found My Tree >> |
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