Christmas Poinsettia

I was barely five years old and the brick steps in her garage were high. The railing was of little help to my short arms as I balanced from step to step behind my mother. As soon as we entered the kitchen the warm smell of a boiling chicken in a pot on the stove met my round face. My cheeks flushed pink with the sound of her voice, “Good morning Charity Ann…” I shyly tucked behind my mother’s hip, peeking around to my Nannie, my mother’s mother. She was at her usual spot at the stove stirring and checking. She was midway through her workday at 9am, as she often rose before the sun to read her Bible. A farm girl from Franklin, Virginia, she knew the importance of home cooking and hard work. She was equal magic and intimidation.

My two siblings followed me into the kitchen. We could smell the lemon cake that was cooling on the counter awaiting its thin lemon glaze over the golden curves the bunt pan had formed. My stomach growled in anticipation of lunchtime soon to come. But first, it was our weekly bible lesson.

 

My mom left and I became even shyer as I made my way to the chair behind the breakfast nook table. The bright morning sun was beating down my back and I was nervous. Bible lessons with Nannie were a honor, or as a small child a rather at-first intimidating experience. Nannie sat at the head of the table under the ticking clock. She reached for our hands and I grabbed her wrinkly hand in mine; her thumbs, squishy and soft with the deepest comfort, pressed onto my hand.

Instantly my nerves started to calm as Nannie began to pray. What happened next I would have never guessed. She looked up and started laughing! Laughing so hard she had to hold onto my sister’s and my hand for balance. She leaned back in her chair, head thrown back with her silvery-white-perfectly-permed hair and continued roaring with laughter. My brother Ben smiled a sheepish grin behind his adorable bucked-teeth and a twinkle in his eye saying, “I’ve seen this before, get ready.” I didn’t understand what she was laughing at but I sure didn’t want it to stop. Everyone started laughing from the toes up. Nannie was the shade of a Christmas poinsettia as the laughter overtook her. Finally, after many deep breaths she calmed and said, “Isn’t God good?” I nodded and knew these days were going to be some of the best of my life. They were.

My childhood inspires me to captivate wonder for my children in similar ways. Finding special days with them that allow them to feel honored and loved like my family did for me. My mom called them Mommy Days, but they often came in the form of Christmas cookie days with close friends or making chicken and dumplings while sitting on top of Nannie’s counter. Nannie would let me use the wooden rolling pin and press out long ribbons of dough that we would trim and carefully plop into the boiling chicken stock. What joy it was to bring a container of our work home knowing I played a special role in making dinner at five years old.

A few weeks ago I was honored to be with Rory as we adventured through some Mommy Day and Nannie traditions. We got our nails done before any other customers arrived (Nannie was always early for everything. Crowds were not wanted, it simply made it all the more special). The salon made Rory feel special by turning their televisions to PBS Kids shows and allowing Pig to have her hooves “painted”. Rory especially enjoyed picking out the colors.

 

Soon after we adventured down to the oceanfront, a favorite location of Rory’s. Attempting to avoid the shore, as she would no doubt want to swim regardless of the 40-degree weather, we tried ice-skating instead. I figured she would last only a few minutes before becoming bored or frustrated. I was wrong. Over an hour later, loop after carried loop, my arms tired, I asked her if we could break for lunch. She finally relented after a few final laps.

We went to Baker’s Crust for soup and a chocolate crepe. She was delighted. The joy was written all over her face. Pig seemed equally pleased albeit slightly bothered that Rory wouldn’t share much of her “orange soup”.

These special days are a joy in living and rejoicing in the gift of family. What an honor it is to ice Christmas cookies with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. What joy it is to grow together in trials and challenges. What thankfulness sprouts through the love of it all. Merry Christmas from the Mini Macks! May you all find joy in the memories being made together this Christmas season.

^“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.” – Luke 2:10-11