The Christmas Song says. Even though my mother-in-law has been gone now for 16 years, it's almost like a reunion with Marie each time I unpack the Christmas decorations and the stockings from the plastic tubs.
Marie was Mrs. Claus. Almost every year, she came up with a new Santa to
share. Looking around the living room is like having a visit with her. Santa and his sack always sit by the fireplace waiting for the real Santa to show up and stuff the stockings and leave books for good little boys and girls.
Another friend, Shirley B., gave us the cross-stitch Santa that Marie had given to her one long ago Christmas.
Marie also stitched this little sampler that sits on my piano
during the holidays. It's a good reminder when I get a little caught up
in the quest for holiday perfection. Hmmm ... maybe that's not the most important thing, especially when it leads to frazzled nerves and aching back.
The Nativity scene Marie pieced together sits on the piano, too, yet another reminder that Christmas isn't about human perfection, but rather the perfect Gift given for each one of us.
She also made the Nativity set whose spot is always on the buffet in the dining room, and I think of her as I unwrap each familiar piece.