What the Holidays Mean to Me
Over the last month I have reflected more on the years that Bryan and I would wake up on Christmas morning in Zepp. As with everyone else around the world, this has been both different and difficult two years. A period of time that I can assure anyone that gathered in the McIlwee farmhouse on Christmas dinner in years past never would have predicted.
Growing up in a family that valued togetherness allowed for moments of great revelry. The moments spent with both the McIlwee and Archer cousins, are some of the best memories of my childhood. The annual Christmas photo with Dad’s camera and tripod set up in a 90-degree basement as we all huddled around Grandma and Granddad for a picture that would then be gifted to Grandma and then adorn her shelf in the living room. Getting together with the Archer cousins at the Leesburg house and then eventually the Lowes Island clubhouse as the five of us would compete on who could make the crowd laugh the most with our offensive behavior or bodily noises!
The season was always kickstarted by going to Pete’s Christmas Tree Farm with a five-gallon bucket and shovel. When we found “the one” dad would tie the top with a red ribbon (I always assumed he just carried it in his jacket like he did when picking up lumber and transporting it home on the back of his truck bed) and he would spend what seemed like the next hour stomping on the shovel time and time again until it was time to take it home.
Then came decorating the tree with the ornaments that told their own story. The personalized Baby’s 1st that were made by family or close friends. The gumby Santa and elf and of course, our stockings. Bryan and my stocking that each year the silver glitter came off a little more, Mom’s initials, which I never understood why someone just didn’t put MARY with one more letter, and then Dad’s red and green “sock” that seemed to go for miles especially when I was old enough to put the Whoppers and Planters peanuts in the bottom. All while Manheim Steamrollers and Kenny Rogers, “Sweet Baby Jesus” serenaded us in the background.
Then there is a deeper, more authentic meaning to Christmas that I have been reflecting on. The one that we would fast all evening and I would put my brand new Christmas dress on and we would drive to the chapel in Bryce, St. John Bosco, or even Sacred Heart to be reminded of the reason for Christmas before we would go to the truck stop for a club sandwich or open faced hot roast beef sandwich before Santa came! The biblical story about Mary and Joseph, a young couple that is homeless and is facing the personal crisis of doubt and uncertainty. Where to stay, where to have a child, how to survive in the face of so many unknowns. As I look back over my life, my marriage, and the last eleven years, I am constantly reminded that my prayers are answered from unexpected sources: from the strength that God has given me from deep inside when I didn’t think I had anything left inside me to conquer the challenging difficulties. I hope this gives you some insight where my thoughts and feelings have been this holiday season as I have been so fortunate to have my mom and dad walk by my side in all seasons for forty plus (I mean 25) years. A gift of security I am forever grateful.
In all my years, both as the child running down the stairs of the Zepp house to the last fifteen years with a different excitement playing Santa for Tripp and Baxter, I have learned that the magic of the Christmas season is so powerful to bring family together every year, but the love in our hearts is even stronger than any pandemic or crisis thrown our way. While gift giving and gift receiving is special, the greatest gifts to me are not those wrapped in fine papers or dressed in colorful bows. They are the memories that my parents have gifted me over the years and the fact that you both are here today to help form the memories that Tripp and Baxter will carry on to their respective families in future years. It truly is a Wonderful Life. Merry Christmas to all!!
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