On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were organizing four boxes of tree decorations, dividing them between us. Kit, who now lives independently, wanted to set up her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the ornaments brought back memories of loss and grief for children no longer present during the holidays.
Over eight years, our family fluctuated with 23 foster children. Most placements were temporary, and while fostering, our two children became part of our family through adoption. I was surprised to find that Kit remembered the stories behind each homemade ornament, even from makers she had never met. It amazed me to discover that her holiday recollections differed from mine.
As I opened a box, a tree topper we received as newlyweds caught my eye. The iridescent angel had a crack between its wings and body, repaired with Krazy Glue. Passing it to Kit, I questioned if she wanted it due to its fragile state. Her eyes sparkled under her festive reindeer hat as she gladly accepted it.
“Do you remember how I always wanted to be the one to place the angel on top of the tree? I thought I would never be tall enough,” Kit reminisced. We shared a laugh, acknowledging how much she had grown. The decision was made – the angel would go with Kit.
In another tin, I found a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament made by an eight-year-old foster child in 1999. It was crafted from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at a foster family Christmas party. Feeling a mix of lingering grief and anger, I recalled the legal battle over his permanency. Despite not being able to see him after he left our care, we hoped he knew of our enduring love for him.
Sensing my shift in mood, Kit took the Santa decoration from me. She remembered how I always placed it near the bottom of the tree for her to play with. Noticing the flames made from red pipe cleaners, she drew a connection to a movie she loved.
Our family made Christmas inclusive for foster children by celebrating on dates that allowed them to spend time with their families. We started a tradition of giving each child unique ornaments, letting them choose to leave them with us or take them as a memento upon leaving our care. This practice led to the Santa and reindeer ornament becoming a part of my decorations.
Uncovering a reindeer ornament made of pompoms and pipe cleaners, I recalled my son’s nickname for it. Dividing ornaments during my divorce years ago, I had strived for fairness, even sharing the reindeer decorations. Kit’s remark about Rudolph always being on the tree wherever she celebrated Christmas struck a chord, showing me the lessons she had learned from our past.
This year’s tree decorating holds a different promise for me. I anticipate that Kit’s joyful perspective will overshadow any lingering sorrow associated with each ornament. I eagerly await seeing her decorated tree.