Grandchild to Grandmother – my Christmas memories

Staff Written Community

By Diane Veasley

As a child I remember shaking the Christmas gifts under the tree trying to imagine what might be inside. Waiting on our grandma to finish with the mixing bowl with the icing for the cake so we could get the bowl and spoon to eat the left over icing. Going to bed early on Christmas eve as if that would make Santa come any sooner, but of course we didn’t know that we were kids. As a child growing up with five siblings Christmas was really the only time we got gifts. Christmas was always spent at my grandmother’s house because we lived with her. A house which was full of comfort, warmth, love, and happiness. My grandmother always made sure we had our own shoe box decorated with the funnies/cartoon section of the news paper. She would  fill it with all kinds of peppermint candy, fruits and nuts. Every Christmas growing up with my siblings was and still is my memorable ones. My favorite time is always the Christmas season. It’s the time of the year when everyone seems to be more giving, happier and more forgiving and for that reason I wish we could celebrate it everyday all year. Although all my past Christmases were was memorable to me. The best Christmas for me is now because I know I was able to breeze through the stormy phase in my life and found the peace and true happiness that I have long been praying for. And just like me and my siblings having lived with our grandmother, now my grandchildren are living with me. It has come full circle for me. Those moments left impressionable memories from my childhood and I hope these moments with my grandchildren will leave those same kind of memories for them in years to come. I enjoy celebrating the birth of Jesus, laughing, sharing stories, and even crying as we rejoice in the Lord. Ands, I enjoy watching my grandchildren take their turns guessing what’s in their presents under the tree. Watching them rip open their gifts from Santa making memories to tell their children one day.

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