192 ~ Finally Able To Enjoy Christmas

By Kay Heitsch

Christmas can be a challenging time for many people. They may be remembering an unpleasant childhood, they may be experiencing the loss of someone, they may be alone, the list goes on and on.

My Dad had a tough childhood. His mom died at age 5, and his Dad went into a deep depression. By the age of 9, my Dad was smoking and drinking, and he started to work on the railroad. Needless to say, his Christmastime was anything but pleasant. All these experiences made my Dad a rough-and-tough man.

When Christmas rolled around each year, these unpleasant memories seemed to take over my Dad's thinking. He was now a very heavy drinker. As I saw it, the way he dealt with life many times was to try to numb his bad memories with alcohol.

When Dad drank, he was very verbal, and Mom and I had to hear his unhappiness. When he wasn't drinking, he was a different person.

Dad did not like Christmas or receiving gifts at Christmas. He'd make remarks when drunk that he didn't want or need Christmas gifts now.

Years passed, and my mom died. Bill and I started to see a significant change in my Dad. For some unknown reason, he began to enjoy Christmas.

He was always excited when we bought him gifts. One year, we bought him a microwave. He lived alone, and we'd hear all about what he was making in the microwave. Another year, we bought him a radio with a tape player, along with some country tapes. I found out he didn't like Willie Nelson, but he did like Tom Jones. Now that was a surprise!

I'm not sure why there was such a change in Dad's outlook at Christmas, but I'm so happy that he was finally able to enjoy Christmas in the last few years of his life.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

191 ~ Merry Heavenly Christmas, Todd

By Kay Heitsch

Well, Todd, it's Christmastime again. It doesn't seem possible that you have been gone for so many years.

I'll admit, Christmas has not been the same since you have been gone. When we all get together, I often look around and wonder what it would be like if you were still here. I can see you laughing and joking. I know Noah, Eli, Gus, Freddy, and Ella would love you.

Every year, I still hang your Christmas stocking that Aunt Kathy made for you. I put your stocking, with your name on it, right in the middle of all of ours.

We don't have the old Christmas tree anymore. However, I did make night lights out of the bubble lights. I've given many away as gifts. I made a little memory tree using some of the ornaments from the old tree.

Keeping with our Christmas tradition, I still make most of the same things I made when you were here. I make the peanut butter chocolate candy. Joe has given this candy a name now. Crack! The Kiss and Snowball cookies are still a hit. Of course, you won't forget the party mix! If you can believe it, I still use the same bowl to make the dip and crackers we enjoy on Christmas Eve.

So much has changed since you've been gone. But I try to keep some of our Christmas traditions going.

Your grave is decorated for Christmas. It's not much, but I hope you know how much you are loved.

Merry Christmas in Heaven, Todd.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

190 ~ Sing - Along

By Kay Heitsch

It was the week before Christmas at the Memory Care Center. Since it was close to Christmas, a sing-along of Christmas songs was planned.

Bob, one of the residents, was in his joy. He was busy handing out the song sheets to everyone.

Before each song, Bob would announce the name of the song. When the people finished singing, he quickly praised everyone for their participation. I smiled to see Bob so actively involved.

The music was on a CD player, and after each song, Bob would say, "Now this is our last song, I've lost my voice." However, when the next song began, he sang out loud and strong.

When the sing-along was finally over, Bob thanked everyone for coming, and then he started to cry. He shared how he missed his brothers and sisters, who I assumed had passed on.

I hugged Bob and reminded him that we all cared for him. He stopped crying and said, "Yes, you all are my family now."

An announcement was made that the activity was over. Bob went around, shook everyone's hand, and thanked them for coming.

You never know what Memory Care people might say, and today was no exception.

In a loud voice, Mary, one of the residents, spoke to the lady sitting next to her, "Well, when I was the Sunday School Superintendent, I at least served refreshments when it was over!"

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

189~ Forgotten Memory

By Kay Heitsch

One Christmas when we lived in Indianapolis, my Dad, Aunt Carmeleta, Uncle Fred, and my cousin Pat came to our house. This was the only time I remember that we were all together.

Todd was in kindergarten, and Shannon was around 3.

Todd had inherited a piano when my Dad's sister and husband died. So since Pat could play the piano, we all gathered around and sang Christmas carols.

This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but it was to me.

Christmas was not a pleasant time for my Dad. It's a long story. To be honest, I didn't know that he even knew any Christmas carols.

I vividly remember Shannon sitting on my Dad's lap in her darling little nightgown and robe. My Dad was smiling and singing. Shannon had the cutest smile on her sweet little face, too, as she was trying to sing.

To be honest, I never knew my Dad knew any Christmas carols. To my knowledge, he had never been to church. But I guess I didn't know everything.

It's nice to be able to think back and remember special times that have long been forgotten.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

188 ~ Fran's Silent Night

By Kay Heitsch

I will never hear "Silent Night" without thinking of Fran. No matter where Fran was, you could hear her humming the first two bars of "Silent Night."

This constant humming of only the first two bars of this beautiful melody could be annoying. Knowing that Fran had Alzheimer's helped me forgive her repetitive humming.

I remember Fran when she first lived in the "Memory Care" unit. She was a tall, nice-looking woman. Like most residents, Fran often walked, humming "Silent Night." Fran had quite an eye for any man who came into the unit. I would always tease her and tell her to let me know if any "good-looking" guys came in.

Fran and I developed a special friendship. You never know how long the progression of this disease will take. For Fran, it seemed like she went downhill very quickly. It wasn't long before she stopped talking and only hummed the first two bars of "Silent Night."

It wasn't long before she was unable to walk. She went from a regular wheelchair to a wheelchair that would recline, as she was unable to sit up anymore. My heart would break to see her lounging in the chair, staring up at the ceiling, but still humming the two bars of "Silent Night."

Whenever I walked by her, I would stop and give her a little kiss on her forehead. I would also give her hand a slight squeeze. There would never be any response.

About a week before Christmas, I walked over to Fran as she was reclining in the wheelchair. As usual, I kissed her on the forehead and took her hand. She turned her head, looked me in the eyes, and said, "I love you. And I like you too." I was stunned! Fran hadn't spoken in months. Tears filled my eyes as I told Fran I loved and liked her. The following day, Fran passed on.

I stopped by the funeral home for Fran's calling hours. Christmas was only a few days away. As I walked in, I noticed her family had a small Christmas tree sitting on a table. A note asked each person to decorate the tree with some tinsel from a box sitting on the table. The family said Christmas was Fran's favorite holiday, and she always had a tree with tinsel.

I could not attend Fran's funeral, but her family shared with me that the carol "Silent Night" would be playing as people passed by her casket to pay their last respects. I know Fran would have been pleased, and I'm sure she was humming along in Heaven.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

187 ~ Christmas Card Memory

By Kay Heitsch

My husband, Bill's Grandma, Z., was in a nursing home when we moved back to Michigan. Grandma had been unable to walk for quite some time; now, her eyesight was almost gone.

Over the years, Grandma Z. and I exchanged many cards and letters. I knew how she enjoyed staying in touch with people.

Since I'd returned to Michigan, Grandma Z. thought I should be her "personal secretary." Trying to jog her memory, I said, "I guess you've forgotten how bad my handwriting is." Grandma Z. acted like she didn't hear me.

Grandma always wanted to write a letter along with her cards. She would dictate; then, I would do my best to write down what she said.

Grandma would always have me read back to her what I had written. Grandma had no problem hearing now because she always told me, "That is not exactly how I said that!" I would then rewrite whatever I wrote in her exact words.

Since I had some extra time before Christmas, I asked Grandma if she would like to send Christmas cards. Grandma readily agreed. I rounded up several different kinds of cards.

I knew she had friends and family who all had other interests. I would take each card, describe the front in detail, and then read the verse inside. After thinking it over, Grandma would tell me who she thought would like each card.

After a while, I looked up and noticed several nursing home residents standing in the doorway. As I read each card, I started to see the looks on their faces and Grandma Z's, too. Each one had a faint smile and a faraway look as they saw the scenes in their mind's eyes.

When I went over to do the Christmas cards, I thought I was doing Grandma Z. a favor, but it turned out she did me a big favor. I'll always cherish this precious memory of bringing Christmas joy and pleasant memories to Grandma and her fellow residents.

Thanks to Grandma Z., I made a "good memory" to pass on to you.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2

186 ~ Christmas Prayer

By Kay Heitsch

We spotted the porch light as we slowly drove down the street on that cold December evening. "This must be the house." I told our "Positive Teens In Action" group.

We pulled up in front of an older home with the porch light glowing. We gathered our songbooks, walked up the steps, and knocked on the door. We heard a faint voice from inside say, "Come on in. The door is open." We opened the door.

An elderly woman with a big smile sat in a rocking chair. "I've been expecting you," she said weakly. Ruth was one of our Meals on Wheels stops I had arranged, along with the usual church members who enjoyed carolers.

We handed Ruth the basket of goodies the teens had assembled earlier that evening. Then I asked Ruth what carols she would like to hear. Ruth's face was beaming as she joined in, singing each song.

As we hugged Ruth goodbye, she said to me, tears glistening in her eyes, "The day you called, I was still in bed. I had just finished praying. I asked God if it would be possible to have some Christmas Carolers come to my home and sing this year. Thank you for being the answer to my Christmas prayer."

Wow, what an incredible experience to be the answer to someone's Christmas prayer.

Remember how I led you on this long journey. Deuteronomy 8:2