“Be very, very careful with this one, this was your mommy’s favorite Christmas ornament.” – his eyes widened as he carefully cupped both of his little hands together – it was like he was holding a baby bird.

It had been four years since we opened this box of Christmas ornaments, actually, it had been four years since we had put up a Christmas tree.

It had been four years since we had a living room worthy of a Christmas tree.  Flooring and trim were pushed aside so we could have other creature comforts like showers, kitchen cabinets, and stair railings.  While we were finishing this project we call “home”, each December we would string lights on a somewhat straggly cedar tree in the backyard.  I came to love this misshapen cedar tree with its crystal clear lights.

Each year this straggled cedar tree with its glorious crown of lights would illuminate our back yard until the first day of spring, somehow it seemed to prolong the spirit of Christmas.

Finally, the long-awaited flooring, trim, and furniture created a living room worthy of a Christmas tree. Upon carefully unpacking the dusty boxes of ornaments it became clear to me that our dream tree was not going to be one of those glamorous, sought-after trees with the beautifully crafted, sparkling ornaments.  You know the ones that stop you in your tracks at Hobby Lobby and make you take a deep breath and exhale with a long sigh.

Instead, we were sharing memories with our future generation of our most precious keepsake ornaments. Most of these ornaments have accumulated tiny piercings and scars from little fingers and an occasional tooth under many December moons.

At eleven months old, our son’s first Christmas, we let him pick out his very own ornament.  His blue eyes began to glaze over at all the silver bells, golden trumpets, and tiny reindeer adorned with glitter.  There must have been a hundred ornaments on the store display.  He passed by them all…

Then he saw it…

His face lit up,

His arms reached out, it was love at first sight.

He had fallen head over heels for a kooky clown that had paranoid eyes, and stretchy arms & legs that were too long for his body.  Our baby boy was jubilant with his new treasure.

He insisted on holding his new prized possession throughout the store – by the time we got home the clown’s entire body was missing and the head had multiple puncture wounds from a teething incident.

In its current state, it was difficult to tell if it was a happy clown or a sad clown.  Mostly it looked like a scared clown, and with good reason!

Many of our ornaments may look like something you might find in a dumpster behind Dollar General on December 26th.  But, the value of these ornaments to us is priceless.

Our daughter was enchanted with this little sleeping mouse on her first Christmas.  Then, when she turned two, she learned that when you color on a styrofoam cup and bake it – it becomes a treasured creation.

We continued the tradition of the kids getting a unique ornament each year.  The Christmas Moose with the tennis racket and the Hiking Racoon with the backpack.  They all hold unique and special memories – but only to us.  And now those memories are being passed on to the next generation.

This year I heard our daughter tell her young boys about her favorite “happy little girl on the swing”.  I watched their little faces as they tried to picture their momma as a little girl, who loved this ornament.  Carefully cradling it in their tiny hands – they now loved it too.

This “little girl on the swing” gets to take her turn front and center on our tree this year.

Christmas – like life – isn’t about the newest and most shiny things.  We hope our younger generation will see value in the misfits and the memories.

One day we hope to see additional oddball ornaments being hung by the tiny hands of yet another generation.

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