There are no Christmases like those we grew up with anymore. Faded like the carols we often heard and sang. Everything today seems crowded and hectic and some folks even resent it when
you smile and offer "Merry Christmas".
This photo I clipped from Pinterest seems to cry simplicity which was what it was all about.
Simply put it was all about the Babe in the Manger.
Our stockings were often filled with oranges and nuts or tangerines. You could count your presents on one hand and be grateful. You had saved your pennies all year to buy your Mom some talcum powder and your Dad a necktie. Diamonds were not on our lists nor the unimagined technologies that would take us away from family conversation and friends playing in the dimming light of the day.
It was so quiet one could almost hear the jingle of sleigh bells or the whish of angel wings.
The nativity set so beautifully arranged caught our hearts in hope and awe.
Christmas though, is safe in our hearts and memories, warm in the remembered fragrance of real pine trees and boughs. Sometimes we do not remember all the words to the carols but we do remember belting out the Glooooooooooooooria with all the breath and enthusiasm we could muster.
Christmas was ours. It still is and no one can take it from us.
For those of us who were once Portuguese children small and safe in our Village, the memories run around like sugar plums and make us laugh relishing each lived moment all over again. Like new presents we unwrap them slowly. They are precious and must not be lost or mislaid.
This is the first of some Christmas meanderings from the past that
will make up the next few posts. I invite you, urge you to share yours.
Someone recently posted on I'm From Taunton Facebook that putting up
her decorations felt more like Memorial Day than Christmas. I get teary when I set up my own little nativity scene as the memories, those long gone, crowd in for my attention, for my prayers.
Found this on You Tube…somebody feels as we do….