Once upon a time, I was a december bride. It was 1970. I remember the date because it was stitched on my one and only Christmas stocking.
It never occurred to my mother-in-law I might not have a stocking. When she learned I didnât have one, she was shocked and I was embarrassed. I donât know why it wasnât a tradition in my family; but then we really didnât have any traditions. Can you call it a tradition if you did something the same way two years in a row? Didnât think so.
That 1970 Christmas morning I received a handmade stocking filled to the top with little goodies. My mother-in-law was so apologetic about having to whip up a stocking with such little notice. She used what she had on hand. There was a wedding dress on the red felt stocking, a little plastic bell on the toe, and my name in felt letters glued on it.
Over the 10 years of that marriage, my stocking was always full one way or another. My father-in-law was particularly clever, always coming up with small treasures. At times he put clues in my stocking that led to full tilt scavenger hunts. In 1980 a pin-back button with Marilyn Monroeâs face on it somehow managed to get on my stocking, and somehow managed to stay.
My mother-in-law also made elaborate stockings for both grandchildren. Shaking the funny things out of their stockings is still the most favorite thing at Christmas and the time we remember her the most. We keep a few spare stockings around so any unexpected guest wonât feel left out.
Itâs my turn now to fill the stockings. Funny, I never saw my mother-in-law empty her stocking. Ah, ha! It occurs to me the filler of stockings is not the fillee. It used to bother me to see my stocking hanging on the mantle empty. Now it just makes me happy. My stocking is way too small for the things I want â” peace for sure, being with my family, good health and healing all around, and so many faithful friends.
Through a few marriages, some deaths, folks far away, ice storms and chicken pox, we have survived, and somehow our 39-year tradition has too.
Happy holidays,
Becki Moore
Publisher and Editor, Soirée