HEIRLOOMS ON THE ELEVENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

“All that I come from, all that I live for, and all that I’m going to be, My precious family/Savior/Jesus is more than an heirloom to me.”(“Heirlooms” by Amy Grant)

“Your house is like a museum,” remark those who first step over the threshold, “there’s so much to look at.” I never know how to take that statement these days when the minimalist movement reigns supreme. Usually, I just smile and usher people into my home, full to the brim with antiques, old photographs, books, and family heirlooms. I am unabashedly sentimental and a keeper of memories. Resisting the urge to become a packrat, I do purge every year, but not everything. Marie Condo’s suggestion to let go of what does not bring joy is not all that helpful to me. I only keep what I love, and I love a multitude of beautiful things, especially when it comes to Christmas.

Dismantling my decorations this time of year is always a bittersweet chore for me. Each ornament has a story; the Nativity figures are the carriers of childhood memories. I always wonder what the state of the world will be like next year when the boxes are unpacked again; if I will be granted another glorious Christmas with family as I have had for so many years. I remind myself to enter each moment and keep telling the stories behind the heirlooms that bind us together in a faith that looks through the trappings of possessions, prestige, and power. This is not about material things at all, but about what they represent.

I hope my grandchildren will want some of the heirlooms I have saved in my home for them. However, what I hope the most is that they know their worth is far more precious to me than anything I own. Love is the heirloom I most want them to give to the next generation.