One of my very favorite Christmas memories tooks place at my grandmother's house. Every year we would go to Granny and B-bob's (my grandfather) house for family Christmas on my mother's side of the family. I would play with my younger cousins while we watched my uncles and older cousins play football in the yard. Everyone of us had at least one special ornament we would look for on Granny's tree. It was special because it was there just for us.
Then we would open presents and the children would disappear with their new toys while the adults played a game of dirty santa. We anxiously awaited the day we would be able to join them. Although probably not as anxiously as we awaited the day we were taller than Granny. That's when you could have your food in the living room with the grown ups. :P
My grandfather passed away when I was just seven years old, so this memory is one from when I as quite little. I was probably five at the oldest. B-bob stooped down and scooped my onto his lap, then did the same to my little brother. We each sat on one of his knees as B-bob started to sing. We had these large bells in our hands. I am not even sure where we got them, but as my grandfather belted out the words to Jingle Bells, we offered him the greatest and loudest accompaniment we could afford.
And that's all I remember. That simple memory has kept my grandfather's face in the forefront of my mind every Christmas season for the last 14 years. I still remember the feeling of his old but steady hands under my armpits, and the jolt of upward movement from he floor to his slender knee.
This same compassionate gesture of stooping down to lift me up is one that I see often in my relationship with my Heavenly Father. King David echoes my sentiments in one of his many songs written to the Lord: