Yesterday, Paul and I caught a flight to Houston. My parents picked us up at the airport, and drove us back to the first home that I remember. And, as I have done upon arriving here each Christmas since I moved away from Texas, I went directly into the living room. I needed to see and touch those familiar Christmas decorations: the nativity scene, the handmade stockings, the ornaments, collected over my parents’ 50-year marriage, adorning the tree.
As much as our lives may change, I can count on these things to be the same each Christmas that I return.
One of the felt doves made by my grandmother, on my parents’ Christmas tree.
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Although my parents no longer live in the same house where I grew up, I know exactly how you feel. Going to their house for Christmas and seeing the familiar decorations and participating in our quirky family traditions each year restores me.
Have been loving the advent calendar, thanks.