Internship Week 12: Christmas is Coming and Modules are Being Built

Yes, Christmas is coming closer. Today we put up the Christmas decorations. At least, my husband did. The house has become magical. All the past Christmas trees and holiday celebrations pass through our minds when those lights turn on for the first time. My memories are full of winter snow and warm fires, with family gathered around. There was always a lot of singing and enjoying the best the holiday season had to offer. There was more food than we could possibly eat and presents around the tree. I love watching all the holiday movies that return to our HD TV at this time of year. I don’t think I will ever get used to the wonder of color in that electronic box. Christmas at my grandmother’s house is what those movies bring back to me.

Grandma would light the candles on the freshly cut pine tree sitting in majestic glory in her front room, on Christmas Eve. The spruce tree was freshly cut by grandpa that afternoon from the woods surrounding my grandparent’s home. The smell of freshly baked cookies mingled with the smell of pine from the tree brought a feeling of love and comfort. Their cat would be curled up fast  asleep on Grandpa’s chair. When dusk turned to pitch black, we would hear bells ringing, a knock on the door and Santa would enter carrying a huge bag of presents. Santa brought everyone a present. When they were passed out, each present was opened one at a time as we all looked on savoring the moment.

The presents were mostly homemade. Both my father and my grandfather had learned the art of wood-carving. They made the most beautiful hand carved ball and chains, ships in bottles, horses and animals and everything one could image carved, including soap. My dad was a carpenter and he would always have something he made for me. I loved the doll crib and the child-sized  kitchen cupboards he made  and left under the tree one Christmas.

My grandmother’s house was so warm and cozy, even though they did not have much money. In fact, my grandma was 86 years old before she had running water in her home. The furniture was made by my grandpa and dad or given to my grandparents by people who no longer had need for the old pieces. They were brought back to life with some fixing and paint. Grandma and my aunts sewed and knitted pillows and throws. The walls were decorated with my aunts paintings. Even though the kitchen chairs never matched and the table was worn with age, soft cushions were placed on the hardwood chairs, creating a splash of color. Soft pillow backs made leaning back on them a treat when we came in from playing in the snow. From the beams above the kitchen table summer flowers hung upside-down to dry. When they were ready artistic bouquets would be placed lovingly in the house.

The floors were covered in colorful rag rugs grandma had made from left over material or from old clothing no longer used. The beds were covered with soft, thick and warm quilts that were handmade by my aunts and grandma during long afternoons together. The curtains were handmade and every corner of the house had some magical artistic touch. Since grandpa was a painter, the walls were always freshly painted with subdued colors that complimented the furnishings. When I hear the words “old-fashioned Christmas,” my grandma’s house comes to mind in all its homespun glory, especially during the Christmas holidays.

The thing I loved the most and remember the clearest is my aunt’s paintings. She was an artist and had a studio behind my grandparents house, where she lived. When she was a young girl she contacted polio. Her spine was twisted and it caused her to be hunched over, much like the “hunchback of Notre Dame.” My aunt must have been self-conscious; because she only came out of her studio on special occasions and at Christmas. She tried to hide herself in painting smocks. I never saw her in the way she might have seen herself. I saw the most beautiful delicate creature God had ever created. Everything about her was graceful and artistic. Her face was angelic; but I love her hands. They were the tools she used to create breath-taking pictures that should have been shown in an art studio

The beauty she once had in her body became apparent in the vivid life-like paintings she created. She painted just about everything you can imagine. She sold her paintings one at a time to help support my grandpa and grandma. Many of my grandma’s favorites were hanging on the walls of her home. Living in the world she created for herself must have been somewhat lonely. However, I know she loved to paint and that love came through in everything she touched. I often wondered if she was an angel sent to keep my grandparents safe and cared for. I suppose I will never know the answer to my question.

Because my Grandma and aunts were good at sewing and knitting, they sewed many great presents, including my doll’s bedding and clothes.  All the Christmas ornaments were painted by my aunt, as were the soap carvings. I still remember her Christmas ornament paintings, each a marvel of color and beauty. She would give one of them to my mom at Christmas in a carefully wrapped box. They were always a treasure and were hung on our tree at home. I think my aunt taught us to love art and see beauty in everything, no matter how old or damaged. In her eyes everything had potential and could be made into a thing of art and beauty, with a little fixing up. Most of all she taught us to love nature.

I remember looking through the frost edged windows with my brother and cousins.  We would see the snow covered hills and the green pines dotting the horizon. Often the moon would be hanging bright and promising in the night sky. Maybe the most beautiful thing about Christmas was the amazing white of the snow outside, while the crackling fire and sparkling candles warmed us in the house. Outside in the fenced pasture, Grandpa’s old Morgan horse was eating the hay grandpa had left for him earlier in the day. As we looked out into that wonderland, sometimes, we would see deer eating in the pasture along side grandpa’s horse. It was always a treat to hear wolves howling in the winter night, as the moonlight bounced across the snow making it sparkle like millions of diamonds on a blanket of white.

After the presents had been opened, everyone would gather in grandma’s kitchen, where her wood burning cooking stove would be sizzling and popping while heating water and milk for hot chocolate and the coffee pot simmered next to grandma’s cast iron tea kettle. That old wood burning stove always seemed to have something baking in it. The freshly baked cookies would be passed around and the bread would be placed in their baking spot. Fresh baking bread aromas would fill the air as we sat around listening to our grandparents stories. At the same time the teapot whistled its familiar tune, coffee aromas slowly rose from the pot’s spout to fill the air with its scent, intermingling with the smell of fresh baking bread.

Warmer than the coffee, are the sweet memories of my grandfather and grandmother’s Swedish accent which helped bring the stories they told, around that table, to life. They would tell us stories about life in Sweden and the Christmas experiences they had shared with their families in the “old country.” I would intently watch my grandpa as he told those stories. I am certain my lips were curled in a smile as I watched him with my elbows on the table and my head resting on my arms. I was intrigued by the way he would pour his coffee on the saucer to cool it and then nosily slurp it, between sentences. I was amazed at the amount of sugar lumps he plopped in that cup before pouring it in the saucer. I hear those stories and clearly see my grandpa again, when I watch the Christmas movies on TV. All those sweet loving memories are still alive because I am. How quickly those scenes pass from this earth, along with those we love.

There seems to be so much less this year. Gone are the loving relatives…who have long since passed into the realm of Christmas past. Gone are the softly falling snowflakes and the wonderland of Minnesota skating rinks, sledding hills and snow ladened pine trees and iced over lakes. My children are grown and live a long way from me. All I have left of my own mom is a little white church that has a light inside and a crank to turn to hear the song “silent night.” I have those cherished warm memories of all my loved ones.They bring the same warmth to my heart, the crackling fire and candle lite Christmas tree did at my grandparent’s home all those years ago.

The reality today is the holidays are leaving me little time to work on my module building. Nevertheless, they are progressing nicely. I met with my mentor this week and my internship coordinator. I know they are pushing me to succeed and be the best I can be. I am very thankful I have my job at the college and this project to keep me busy and learning, while I prepare for this one special day of joy and love. If I had one wish, I would wish there was roofs over every head in this world and enough food on the table. But, the reality is children in this country and other countries are starving and people do not have roofs over their heads this time of year.

There is no peace on earth and very little good will toward men. But, I believe in Christmas magic and believe there could be. I believe in the spirit of Christmas. I believe there are loving hearts in this world; and we only need to look to see all the good that is happening not only during this season, but all year long. Maybe there is not quite enough good to go around, but there could be. I will be forever grateful for the family I have had and the creature comforts I have enjoyed. Most of all I will always remember the love of family and those “old fashioned” old country Christmas memories.

I have put the last picture in for my family who may read this blog. Especially for my granddaughter who loves to hear about the family stories.

My mom took me to see Santa Claus at one of the department stores while we shopped for Christmas presents in St. Paul, Minnesota. Apparently I was quite busy telling Santa what I thought we needed. One of the fun things I received that Christmas was a white muff for my hands. I think I must have loved Santa’s white cuffs on his jacket. I have two Christmas trees like the one in this picture…except they are fiber optic. Those are the only trees I put up at Christmas; but  we have a lot of lights!

The picture of the stove was taken from the following blog. The snow scene was on this site link. Other pictures were taken from Microsoft Online.