“There Are No Small Things”

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Yesterday afternoon I answered a knock on the front door and opened it to a friendly woman holding a brightly wrapped package. She introduced herself as a member of our church and said she was there to recognize that I had lost my sister in August. The women’s ministry meets once a year to package egg bread and personalize a letter to each parishioner who has lost someone dear to them. Then women volunteer to drive around the state delivering the loaves with a condolence note and a warm compassionate smile.

My little sister loved Christmas. In the above photo she is two and examining a toy phone, probably wondering why she can’t hear anyone on it. She wears her favorite one piece pajamas which she demanded each year until they no longer made them big enough. Eventually she was rewarded when they started manufacturing adult size one piece fleece pajamas.

I hadn’t realized that I was resisting decorating the house until I was handed that loaf of bread. My grief had been latent, preventing me from really enjoying the season, but I was unaware that it was affecting me. I took the bread and had a good cry, remembering how much she delighted in Christmas.

Then we loaded our grandchildren in the minivan, drove down our country road, went to our favorite farm stand, and bought doughnuts and a lovely noble fir. It is actually beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Thinking of you with love, Patsy.

13 thoughts on ““There Are No Small Things”

  1. We also remember sad moments during Christmas time and lovely moments too. We lost our Dad on a December evening ten years ago and Christmas hasn’t been the same again.

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