Then They Do

The holidays have a way of bringing out memories forgotten during the usual months of the year. We remember fondly (mostly!) traditions we have either started with our own families or carried over from our childhoods.

When our three daughters were very young, we began a new family tradition of purchasing a Christmas ornament for each girl representing something unique about them that had happened during the year. The plan was that one day we would hand over each daughter’s ornaments for her own Christmas tree.

Our daughters growing up and leaving home felt like something far away in a place called the future. I was too busy being a mom to contemplate the notion that our kids leaving home might happen.

While I was still knee-deep into parenting, country singer Trace Adkins came out with a song in 2003 entitled, “Then They Do.” 

He sang about how crazy it is some days as a parent and how sometimes we wish our children would grow up. 

And then they do.

I listened to the lyrics with a pang in my heart, contemplating a future without kids under our roof. (Not that the thought was a bad one, depending on the day!)

Yesterday our oldest daughter, her husband, and our granddaughter came over to go through our Christmas ornaments. She wanted to take her childhood ornaments to put on her own family’s Christmas tree. Later, our second daughter also arrived to collect her box of ornaments. 

Although I knew in my heart the time had come to hand off the collection of the lifetime of memories contained in each ornament — even as I write this, I feel a bit ambivalent. 

Throughout the years, our Christmas tree resembled an assortment of random, unmatching ornaments. To the untrained eye, our tree was far from perfect. To me, however, life slowed down with the placement of each memory on the tree. All the many phases, awkward experiences, sweet victories—stories remembered and re-told over the passing years.

Earlier this week, I had a real conversation with a lifetime friend. She shared moments of regret as a parent. Yep. The ornaments reflect the happy moments, the one-of-a-kind moments, and some moments I wish I would have held onto much tighter than I did. No matter how hard I tried to be a perfect mom—I failed over and over again. But some days, I got it right! 

Two out of three boxes of ornaments left our house yesterday in the arms of our now-married daughters. The third box will be going one day soon when our third baby girl is ready to take ownership of her ornaments. 

Until then, they will remain safe with me—the mom who prays for her daughter’s futures with hopes that every dream held within their hearts will come to pass. Hopefully, captured piece-by-piece, ornament by ornament over the coming years on their own ragamuffin Christmas trees.

Stay the course…

Sheila