On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were organizing four boxes of tree decorations, dividing them between us. Kit, now living independently, wanted to decorate her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the ornaments brought forth memories of loss and sorrow for the children who were no longer part of our holiday celebrations.
Over eight years, our family grew and shrunk with the arrival of 23 foster children. While most stays were temporary, our two children came to us through adoption. I was amazed to discover that Kit remembered the stories behind each handmade ornament, even from creators she had never met. It was surprising to find out that her holiday recollections differed from mine.
As I opened a box, I came across a tree topper we received during our first Christmas as newlyweds. Running my fingers over the crack in the iridescent angel, held together by Krazy Glue, reminded me of the fragility of our marriage. Passing the angel to Kit, I wondered if she would cherish it despite its delicate state. Her eyes sparkled under her festive reindeer hat as she eagerly accepted the angel.
“Mom, remember how I always wanted to be the one to place the angel on top of the tree? I thought I’d never be tall enough.” We shared a laugh. “You’ve grown enough now, right?” And so, the angel found a new home with Kit.
In another tin, I found a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament crafted by an eight-year-old boy we once fostered. Made from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at a community Christmas party, it stirred up a mix of lingering grief and frustration. Despite our efforts, he couldn’t stay with us permanently, and we lost touch after he left. Kit noticed my change in demeanor and took the ornament from me.
“You always placed this near the bottom of the tree so I could play with it. I love this guy. Look at the flames coming out from the back of the sleigh — just like in the movie.”
I had often wondered about the red pipe cleaners sticking out of the sleigh, but Kit saw it differently. Like our foster children, she preferred watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” on Christmas Eve over attending church in the city.
Creating inclusive holiday traditions for the foster children in our care was a priority for my former husband, our parents, and me. We scheduled our family Christmas dinner on days surrounding Christmas so that the foster children could spend time with their families and not feel left out. We started a tradition of giving each child unique ornaments to keep when they left our home, allowing them to choose whether to leave it with us or take it as a memento.
Retrieving a reindeer ornament made of chocolate-colored pompoms, ribbon, googly eyes, and pipe cleaners, I recalled my son’s nickname for them. Dividing Christmas decorations was not new to me. Two decades ago, my former husband and I divided our belongings, including holiday ornaments, during our separation. I had thought our children wouldn’t notice, but Kit’s words revealed otherwise.
Kit’s reflections on the ornaments and their significance showcased the valuable lessons she had learned from our past. This year’s tree decorating holds a different promise for me, with Kit’s joyful perspective overshadowing any lingering sadness. I look forward to seeing her decorated tree.
