Dad's birthday and Christmas Memories

Today is my father's birthday.  As we always do, we lit a candle this morning, in memory of the loved one who is now gone.  The African violet that Carolyn gave me when he died in 1990 is still blooming beautifully.  It is appropriate that she gave me an African violet because at one time, my father raised them as a hobby, building a greenhouse in Wichita Falls, Texas to house the dozens of gorgeous plants he had.  I'm not into ghosts, but one time, I swear I briefly saw a shadow of my father leaning over to check on the violet Carolyn gave me.  

We put up our Christmas tree today, and it brought back many memories of Christmases in my childhood.  They were always busy times because my father was a minister at two churches, and my mother was the organist-choir director.  Us kids always got recruited into doing decorations, singing in Christmas pageants, etc. But I remember it as exciting--maybe because I was the youngest.  

Santa always came in the evening on Christmas Eve, so my parents would have time to get ready for the 11:00 church service. My dad didn't like for the kids to wake  him up early on Christmas morning, so Santa always came on Christmas Eve.  It didn't occur to me to wonder why Santa could come by appointment at our house, when he didn't for anyone else.  We would all be sent to our rooms to wait for Santa to come, and he always did.

My sister Rosemary and I  shared a bedroom, which was on the floor above the living room.  The chimney went through one wall of our room.  One year while we were waiting for Santa to come, I  started  quizzing Rosemary about whether Santa really existed, or if it was our parents.  I could tell that Rosie was in a dilemma about what to say.  I guess her ethics were being challenged--lie or not.  While she hesitated, trying to decide what to say, suddenly we heard Santa yell "Merry Christmas" up the chimney as he left.  That convinced me; Santa did exist!