The stockings were hung

 

The stockings were hand crocheted from red cotton thread to look a bit like the red net stockings sold, filled, at the grocery store. My aunt had made one each for me and my brother. I didn’t appreciate the work that went into them. Like I didn’t appreciate all the dresses my grandma made me, or the beautiful knit and sewn Barbie wardrobe. I was just a kid. I wanted what my friends had. 

I wanted a TV Christmas, with a shiny bike under the tree (ignore the danger of even learning to ride a bike on steep mountain roads). I wanted the enormous hollow chocolate Santa. I wanted a shiny Christmas like in the big Sears Wishbook. 

I wanted a camera. 

I was 10 and I knew the Santa game. Those stockings would be filled, but with maybe one or two chocolates, a candy cane, and a small toy. Absolutely not made in a workshop by elves. The rest of the stocking would be finished with a couple of the fancy tangerines that were off limits in the fridge. It would be filled out with some of the bulk grocery store candy we always had in the big jar in the bottom cupboard and the same mixed nuts in the shell that filled a basket on the coffee table this time of year.

In 1965 a new TV special premiered, A Charlie Brown Christmas. It showed the contrasts I was feeling. All the hype and greed and disappointment was put right there on the screen, and then went that touch beyond. The kids like me, wrapped up in their own wants, suddenly had a light turned on. They looked at each other, decorated the sad little rejected tree, and joined voices for a beautiful song. 

I suddenly saw what I had instead of what I didn’t. And then I was given my wish; my own camera. My first picture was not well lit, but I still love what I captured. If you look closely, you will see my limply hanging stocking just behind my mom’s shoulder. You will see cards set on the mantle and part of the picture my brother painted on the mirror. 

You will see gratitude and beauty through my child's eyes. You will see love. 

This Christmas will be hard for my family. We are grieving. None of the decorations have been put up, not even the stockings. I’m sure we will pull something together for the kids. 

My faith has changed and changed again over the years, and where I have landed is really close to Quaker teachings of simplicity. Early Quakers did not celebrate Christmas. I appreciate the concept that all days are equally sacred. But even grown up kids can get caught up in wanting the media images. 

Now we are entering the darkest part of the year, the longest nights for the northern hemisphere. I don’t think it is an accident that so many faiths have holidays this month that celebrate light. It is when things are darkest that we need that hope the most. 

I will hope for you light and love. I will do my best out of my own dark time to throw that out on the water, and hope it comes back to me. I will find the heart to sing a song, and hope someone sings along. I will share my stories. I hope you will share your own.