Christmas Eve Memory

When I was growing up, our Christmas Eve's were almost identical: eat breakfast, play with neighbors/cousin/grandparents/aunt and uncle, eat lunch, rest at home with family, eat dinner and prepare for church, go to church (favorite part was singing "Silent Night" while lighting candles), go home, get ready for Santa, have trouble going to sleep.

One year, however, was distinctly different. My grandmother had been ill with cancer and was going down hill fast. I was a senior at Auburn and having a hard time being in college while trying to assert my independence as an adult. Let's just say that life wasn't so easy for me.

My mother and I headed up to D.C. to spend Christmas with my Mimi as we always had. My aunt, uncle and cousin couldn't make it that year so it was just the three of us as my grandfather had died several years earlier. Mimi was so weak from the cancer and surgery that she couldn't make it down the stairs to have Christmas in the (completely finished) basement as we always did. So we took the top part of her fake tree and put it upstairs in the living room. It was a little tight but we made it work.

With Mimi being so weak, she stuck close to home and expected the same of us so we weren't able to do most of the things we loved to do. We did manage to escape a couple of times but stuck close to her because she wanted it that way. One of our outings, incidentally, was to the drug store near her house where we discovered "Smints". We still laugh about that one. (I guess you had to be there.)

On Christmas Eve, the weather was terrible. My mom and I had decided that we were going to go to a Christmas Eve service, even if Mimi didn't go. We were planning to attend the service at McLean Presbyterian Church, which is, incidentally, where S and I would meet less than a year later. The roads weren't exactly easy to navigate but we figured we could make it and needed a trip out of the house. We were like caged animals, ready for some wide open spaces.

Just as we were planning our evening out, Mimi told us that we could go but we couldn't take her car. She really didn't want us to leave. I remember being angry and frustrated with her, not understanding why we couldn't go out for just an hour. I was so disappointed and was afraid that it wouldn't feel like Christmas if we didn't go to the Christmas Eve service.

Trying to make the best of a difficult situation, my mom made the decision to have our own Christmas Eve service at home. We all gathered in the living room after dinner. My mom read from Luke 2 and I sang a carol (I don't remember which one). Then we prayed, all of us taking turns. Mimi went last and thanked God for her daughter and granddaughter who stayed home with her and for sending His son to save us from sins. She thanked Him for her family who wasn't with her and said, "Amen." Then we turned out all the lights except for the tree and sang "Silent Night." It was a beautiful service, one that still brings tears to my eyes as I recall it.

Mimi died the following March, succumbing to the cancer that ravaged her body. We were all with her. We were able to spend one last Christmas at her house before having to sell it. While the last Christmas we had with her was very difficult, it is, in some ways, one of my favorites. I learned a lot about family, about God and His ultimate plan that I don't always understand, and that even little outings to the CVS can bring great joy (Smint, anyone?).