My mother was Christmas personified. Every day in December, she wore Christmassy attire. She donned sparkly dresses, holiday sweaters, green-and-red scarves, and festive jewelry. She sewed many of her Christmas dresses, and, one year, even made Charles Dickens’ costumes for us. Once, she sewed a beautiful Mrs. Claus dress for herself. It had red sequins, red velvet, and white fur, and she looked stunning in it.

My mom’s home was magical at Christmastime. The first Saturday in November was always Tree Day, and my siblings and I gathered each year, even as adults, to help her decorate her house and her Christmas trees. She had a tree for every room! Each tree was themed and special in its own way. My siblings and I laughed, listened to Christmas albums from our youth, and decorated all day. Tree Day was one of my favorite days of the year!

My favorite tree of hers was the traditional one. It was mine to decorate every year, and I took special care to place each handmade ornament amongst the colorful bulbs and old-fashioned tinsel. I reminisced and recalled the stories and memories that each ornament conjured in my mind. It was like strolling through my childhood with the ghost of Christmas past. There was a dog and cat ornament that my twin sister and I played with when we were little girls. We used to sneak them off of the tree and have them visit the nativity beneath. We thought they fit right in with the sheep, cows, and camels of the scene. Baby Jesus always welcomed them with open arms! But, somehow, they always found their place back to the branches of the tree.

Christmas traditions were very important to my mom, and she was intentional about keeping those traditions alive year after year. She wrote a Christmas letter, woke up early Christmas Eve to make snickerdoodles and snowball cookies, and hosted a Christmas Open House where friends and family gathered to be merry and go caroling. One tradition, though, was near and dear to her heart, and she worked tirelessly to make it happen every year for her children, her in-laws, and her grandchildren.

When my brothers, sister, and I were growing up, we’d shake the wrapped gifts under the tree and could often determine what it was based on whose name was on it, what it sounded like, and its size. This practice irritated my mom greatly! One year, my brother unwrapped his gift, and we played with it for a bit. After the mischief, he wrapped the gift again and put it back under the tree to be unwrapped on Christmas morning with false surprise. When she discovered the poorly wrapped gift and uncovered our secret, she made a new tradition – one that would keep us from shaking or unwrapping our presents ever again!

From that moment onward, she numbered every present she wrapped. From one to ever-how-many gifts she wrapped that year, it was always a mystery until Christmas morning which gifts belonged to whom. Each stocking held a card with every family member’s assigned numbers. She scattered the gifts around her home under all of her trees, so it became a scavenger hunt. It was such a thrill on Christmas morning and so much fun to find my numbered gifts! What a joy it was for me to watch my own children rush to their stockings and find their numbers as she continued the tradition through the years.

When we found our gifts, we couldn’t just tear into the paper. We patiently took turns opening and watching each other’s surprise and appreciation. She handmade many of her gifts, but when she didn’t, she strived to buy something specially chosen for the receiver. Christmas day was slow, intentional, and joyous.

My mother passed away years ago, but I often think about those Christmases of the past where she spread Christmas joy and instilled traditions into the hearts of her children, grandchildren, and friends. Since her passing, I have strived to carry on her traditions, but many of them are not the same without her. No one can make a snickerdoodle as well as she, and while we tried the year after she died to carry on the numbered-gift tradition, it was a flop without her dedication, her many trees, and her desire to make Christmas perfectly magical for the ones she loved. Some traditions are tied to one who made it special.

My mom’s favorite Christmas song was “Silver Bells”. I love the verse that includes, “In the air, there’s a feeling of Christmas”, because I’ve always believed my mom epitomized that line. This Christmas, take time to reflect on those traditions you hold dear to your heart. Think about the loved ones that made them special for you and recall the warm memories of association. Be intentional about carrying on those traditions or creating new ones. To me, the “feeling of Christmas” is God’s love, the spirit of giving, and the joy and blessings of being surrounded by family and friends. I believe Christmas traditions help conjure that magical feeling.

I inherited my mom’s Mrs. Claus dress and her traditional Christmas tree. I wore the dress recently in a Christmas 5k and won for best Santa costume! I intentionally dress festively in December to pay homage to her memory. I host Christmas dinner for my entire family annually just like she did, and I feel so honored to be able to continue her legacy. Still, I decorate her tree each year and reminisce about Christmases gone by. I think about my mama and how grateful I am for the time I shared with her and the countless happy Christmastime memories we made together. Through the tears, I smile, take the cat and dog ornaments to visit with Baby Jesus in the nativity under the tree, and then hang them holding paws on my very favorite Christmas tree of all time.