Growing up my little sister and I learned that Christmas giving was an Olympic sport and that our mother, Hazel, was a gold medalist.
The Christmas tree in our house floated upon an ever expanding sea of beautifully wrapped and ribboned boxes. At least half of those boxes would end up in the family station wagon. The car would be so full of presents mom would have to make little cubbies that my sister and I would crawl into. Then she’d settle her husband behind the wheel and we’d fly to Terre Haute to spend Christmas with her family.
Our mother didn’t just love Christmas, she was Christmas.
Hazel grew up poor with 8 brothers and sisters and her childhood Christmases weren’t much due to worthless father figures who weren’t there when they should have been. It’s why she nailed my father’s feet to the floor and made sure he went to work everyday so she could be Christmas every year.
Some people might say Hazel was a shallow person to put so much effort into buying gifts for everyone and even having multiple all-purpose gifts for last minute friends who might need one, but that gift wasn’t just a ‘thing’ if you got it from her. It was a physical manifestation of her love. Because she loved you. She loved everyone.
I don’t much care for the Christmas season. I love my family and I love the wonderful gatherings hosted by my amazing sister, but I hate it that I can’t go into a Walmart in December if I need underpants. And who decided to start playing Christmas music the day after Halloween, when we’re all crashing from the sugar high we had the day before?
I don’t know how my sister feels about the Christmas season, but for me and my family she is Christmas. Though her Christmas tree isn’t buried in brightly colored boxes her house is overflowing with love. Thank God for my little sister. We’re all truly blessed to have her in our lives.
By the way, we’re changing Christmas to Hazelmas. So, Merry Hazelmas everybody!
