My grandmother began a tradition the year I was born. Since 1976, Nanny has given me a special ornament every Christmas, a streak of 43 holiday seasons.
Thanks to Nanny, I have a collection of ornaments that tell the story of my life. There is a Basset Hound tucked into a red velvet slipper, reminiscent of how much my little girl self wanted a puppy. Santa in a jersey swinging at a snowball is a tangible memory of the year I became a baseball fan.
Every important milestone in my life is represented by something wrapped in tissue or nestled in a small, satin-lined box. Meaningful words like Newlyweds, New Home, and Baby’s First Christmas grace our tree like mini-benedictions.
My 44th Christmas is approaching. This year, there will be no perusing the Hallmark catalog and circling my favorite ornament. My grandmother, nearly 90 years old, is battling COVID in a rehab facility. The virus has rendered Nanny non-ambulatory and her mind is failing as well.
I determined to carry on my grandmother’s beautiful tradition, except this year the focus would be different. Instead of selecting an ornament reflecting my life in 2020, I would purchase one in Nanny’s honor.
Standing in Hallmark, surrounded by hundreds of glittering options, my eyes were drawn to one. It was a little piano, the one instrument Nanny loves and learned to play late in life. I got closer and was stunned to see the word Gloria painted in gold above the keys.
I knew the Lord was with me as I bent down to find the matching box beneath the display case, something she must have done so many times for me.
Gloria is Nanny’s name.
So yes, it is possible to have a real Hallmark moment in the middle of a pandemic. After all,
the manger was a messy place, but the gift inside, wrapped in swaddling clothes, was absolutely perfect.
I found my 44th ornament. And it is perfect.
