My friend is waiting for her first grandchild to be born.
I saw her at church and I asked about her daughter.
She’s uncomfortable and so ready, my friend said.
I remember.

My friend and I have a lunch scheduled for the end of this week.
She is on baby alert, as she calls it.
Of course, the birth of her grandchild is her top priority.
Our lunch can wait for another time if we have to reschedule.

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I listen to news radio while I get dressed in the morning.
Give us twenty minutes and we’ll give you the world, is the tag line for the station.
That’s about right since I can hear news, weather, sports, and traffic before I’m done.
Quick snippets of news to get my day started.

The other morning, they broke in with a quick announcement.
This is test of the Emergency Broadcast System; this is only a test.
They then proceeded to sound that awful sound that would be an alert if necessary.
The same sound that always scared me when I was a little girl.

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Down the road from our home is a beautiful country church.
The kind of church where the steeple is visible for miles.
The kind of church where the bells ring on the hour.
The sound of those bells can be heard for miles.

When snow is on the ground, that church could be on the front of a Christmas card.
With the subtle illumination at night, it seems to beckon.
There is a graveyard next to the church with tombstones that date back 100 years.
It is the church bells however, that resonate with my heart.

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Coming home from college, there are always the obligatory appointments to be made.
Eye doctor and dentist appointments are always on the top of the list.
Appointments that used to be made in a leisurely fashion are now made on a timeline.
Appointments that are made in advance and are kept to the best of our ability.

This is the reality for my youngest daughter who is home for Christmas break.
A visit to the eye doctor last week and the dentist this week.
I remember the days when all five children would have dentist appointments back to back.
We would be in the waiting room for quite a while.

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I passed the test.
You know the one.
The test that you find on Facebook, the one that pops up on various topics.
What Disney character are you? or How well do you know the 60’s?

This test caught my eye.
How well do you know the story of Christmas?
I disregard many of these tests.
This particular one seemed to call to me.

I clicked on START.
The test began.

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My children buy presents for each other.
They do not do a Pollyanna gift exchange where names are chosen.
They do full fledged, all-out purchases for each other.
They get something for their dad and I as well.

The gifts are wrapped and placed beneath the tree.
Colorful boxes and bags are waiting to be opened.
They take pictures of the tree with the gifts underneath.
Christmas morning has its traditions.

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My mother had such a unique way of displaying Christmas cards.
She would wait until she had quite a lot and get out the red ribbon.
She cut graduated lengths of ribbon and began with the longest one.
She opened the cards and placed the ribbon in the crease.

She would tape the ribbon to the card.
She carefully chose cards according to color and shape.
It made a beautiful visual display.
She took the top end of the ribbon and tied it to the banister.

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My daughter participated in a Christmas sweater contest at her college.
She was prepared.
After Thanksgiving break, she went back to school with THE sweater.
It was a sweater vest she made back in high school for a crazy Christmas sweater day.

The sweater has felt appliques of Santa, snowmen, Christmas wreaths, and candy canes.
All the appliques were painstakingly applied.
The sweater buttons in the front.
It is fabulously, over the top, Christmas-ready.

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There were so many wonderful Christmas books that I read to my children.
A Christmas Carol and How the Grinch Stole Christmas were perennial favorites.
The Gift of the Magi, with the selling of his watch and her long locks of hair was read.
Another favorite was The Polar Express written in 1985 by Chris Van Allsburg.

The story is about a boy who has very logical questions about the existence of Santa Claus.
He is startled from sleep by the sound of a train whistle.
The train, which is in his front yard, is headed to the North Pole.
Reluctant at first, he boards the train knowing that his questions will finally be answered.

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Growing up I always had an artificial Christmas tree.
Christmas came just two months after my husband and I were married.
That was the year I had my first real Christmas tree.
I was so excited to finally have a real tree in our apartment.

The smell of the pine needles was amazing.
The wintry smell permeated every crevice of our tiny apartment.
I had some ornaments from when I was a girl.
No glass Christmas balls, since the memory of breaking them was fresh in my mind.

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