Remembering Christmas Morning 1964

Christmas Week 1965

Jocie Brook here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky.

Christmas is almost here. I don’t see how Christmas 1965 can top Christmas 1964, but maybe it will. I guess I’ll have to wait and see. You can read all about that Christmas 1964 and more in the book Summer of Joy. I know, it seems a little weird to have a story titled summer when I’m talking Christmas, but that story had some snow and some summer sun too. Some stories take a while to tell, but with Christmas only a couple of days away, I was looking back in my journal reading about last Christmas. Thinking about how good that day was made me want to share it with you. Not exactly something I could write for the Hollyhill Banner, but sometimes other kinds of stories are fun to read.

I remember how special our Christmas celebration last year began. Even special for Christmas. When Dad read the Christmas story out of the Bible, I could almost see the wondrously clear sky and hear the angels singing the good tidings. I could smell the hay and straw in the stable and hear the donkey braying. I shut my eyes and imagined how Mary must have traced the eyes, nose, and mouth of her baby with her finger and been amazed afresh at the miracle of his birth. And the brightness of the new star over the stable must have been something to see.

Then with everybody sitting around talking quietly after we’d opened presents and eaten Aunt Love’s sweet rolls, I opened up the journal Dad gave me and wrote Christmas Morning 1964  at the top of the first page.  When I looked at what I wrote that morning last year, I put my hand down flat on the page as if I could absorb the words. I had so many good things to write about. Here’s what I wrote about my Christmas blessings.

This is the best Christmas ever. I know. I’ve been saying that every year. At least the last few years and I did think they were best. Well, not the Christmas after Mama Mae died. That one was the worst. The one when I was eight. Lots worse than the one after DeeDee left with Tabitha. Although that one wasn’t so good either.

I missed Mama Mae. She was Christmas. I guess when Mama Mae died, so did Santa Claus. At least for me. But another Christmas came around and another and now I’m old enough to know Christmas is more than what’s under the tree. More even than who’s sitting around the tree with you. Although, boy, am I glad this year for who’s sitting around the tree with me. Especially Wes. After that tree fell on him back in July this could have been another worst Christmas ever like the one after Mama Mae died. A person just can’t keep from missing people they’ve lost at Christmas.

I said a prayer for Miss Sally today when I work up since she lost Mr. Harvey last September. But she told us at Sunday school last week not to worry about her or be too sad about Mr. Harvey. That he would surely have the best Christmas a Christian could ever have up in heaven this year. I wonder do the angels sing up in heaven every year the way they did on that first Christmas when Jesus was born? 

But back to my best Christmas ever. Last year there was just me and Dad and Aunt Love and Wes. That was good, but we’ve almost doubled our number this year with Tabitha here and baby Stephen Lee and Leigh. 

Reading about that good Christmas still makes me so happy I want to sing. Of course, nothing ever stays exactly the same, and I’m glad for those good changes. I loved having more people around our Christmas tree last year and love even more that we’ll all be there again this year. I’m glad Dad and Leigh are so happy together. I’m glad Wes is still telling me Jupiter stories. I’m glad I got to see Stephen Lee take his first steps a few months ago. I’m glad Aunt Love is singing some hymns while she cooks. I’m glad I still have Zeb to curl up on my feet when I sleep out on the back porch.

But I’m glad some things don’t change. Like the Lord. Like people loving other people a little extra at Christmastime. Like Dad and Wes loving me a little extra all the time. Like the Lord blessing people even when they don’t know what blessings they need.

I hope the Lord keeps blessing you this Christmas and fills your heart so full of joy that you hear the echo of those angels singing to the shepherds.

Oh, and if you want to know more about what happened in Hollyhill that busy year of 1964 and 1965, you can read those books with all our stories written down.  The Heart of Hollyhill books —Scent of Lilacs. Orchard of Hope. Summer of Joy. Some people say reading about what all happened to us makes them laugh and sometimes cry. I guess if I wrote them all down in my journal and then read them over, I might do some laughing and crying too.

So, until next time, Merry Christmas to you.

Jocie Brook signing off. (Aunt Love is hollering for me. She’s ready for me to help her make some Christmas candy. Chocolate fudge, I hope. With nuts. My favorite. What’s your favorite Christmas candy?)