We have had a perfect (and I mean PERFECT!) Christmas eve. Snow falling throughout the day, Ryan only having two appointments, the boys playing well, and I finishing up a few odds and ends. I have been craving French Dip Sandwiches, so I put a roast in, and mmmmmmmmmmmmm!!! The house smelled so yummy all day!
Ryan and the boys ran an errand (to get ice melt) while I wrapped what I had finished. We sat down to a delicious dinner, complete with chocolate pudding, and *gasp*! Everyone cleaned their plates! The boys ate EVERY.LAST.DROP of onion soup and roast beef sandwich! So we read a Christmas story and opened the traditional Christmas Eve Gift. Pajamas, that I finished at 2 am this morning.
The following story is my FAVORITE Christmas story (from my great-great grandmother's autobiography), after the story of our Savior's birth. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did as we discussed with our children the meaning behind Christmas, and how blessed we are, despite what we might think at times.
♥♥♥
On the 26th of October, 1856, we left Salt Lake
City, with all its advantages, to “rough it” in the country. For a time we felt the change very much; and
especially did our children, who would cry to be taken home. Spanish Fork was a new settlement, and at
this time, consisted principally of large wheat stacks, temporary dwellings,
and houses in course of erection. The
huge wheat stacks had a great attraction for us, who had so recently passed
through a famine.
We rented a house, purchased a good building site, and
built a small room in which to winter.
This had just been accomplished, when my husband was taken very sick; But recovered in a month sufficiently to take
a journey to Salt Lake City on business.
He had but just reached his destination, when unfortunately he took a heavy
chill and became entirely prostrated by rheumatic and lung fever. He was staying in the First Ward with
friends, however, who kindly cared for him for many weeks, by which act they
bound our hearts to them in gratitude.
Meanwhile, I had remained in ignorance of his sickness, daily expecting
him home, the letters sent to inform me of his condition, not reaching their
destination. My situation all this time
was by no means enviable. The weather
was very cold, and our temporary house afforded but poor protection from its
severity. Mr. Cornaby, expecting to
return in a few days, had left but little in store, and it was soon
exhausted. With three helpless children,
I had much need of fortitude, but was never left without a resource – my trust
being in Israel’s God, who has never failed me.
The recent famine experience had taught me economy, and the
little I could procure from the sale of some clothing, enabled us to live. I could have made our condition known, and
have received help, but delicacy forbade; so I made the best of the situation,
exerting myself unceasingly for the helpless little ones.
Christmas Eve came, and my darlings, with childish faith,
hung up their stockings, wondering if Santa Claus would fill them. With aching heart, which I concealed from
them, I assured them they would not be forgotten; and they fell asleep with
joyful anticipations for the morrow.
Not having a particle of sweetening, I knew not what to
do. They must not, however, be
disappointed. I then thought of some
squashes in the house, which I boiled, then strained off the liquid, that, when
simmered a few hours, made a sweet syrup.
With this, and a little spice, I made gingerbread dough which, when cut
into every conceivable variety of design, and baked in a skillet, (I had no
stove) filled their stockings and pleased them as much as would the most fancy confectioneries.
I sometimes wonder if the children of to-day enjoy the
costly Christmas presents of toys and rich candies with which they are
surfeited, more than my little ones did their gingerbread toys, twenty-four
years ago.
(Excerpt from Autobiography and Poems by Hannah Last
Cornaby, pgs. 44-46)
♥♥♥
While Ryan and I want to give our children more gifts and things to make them happy, I am humbled by my great heritage. Christmas was frugal this year. I have had many restless nights wondering what and if we'd be able to do what we had planned, if anything at all. I had lots of help from my sisters to make what we had 'do' and I'm so pleased with the way our crafts & gifts have turned out. I simply cannot wait to see the joy on my children's faces in the morning!
Last week, I had lots of scraps leftover from making our gingerbread house...I remembered this story, and let my children cut out "every conceivable shape" and we baked them in our oven. We took twine and hung them in the window, to remind us of this wonderful story and the simple gift Hannah made for her children when she had nothing else. It was headache enough to make this gingerbread dough with the ingredients I had on hand....I cannot imagine boiling down a squash and making a sweet syrup to make such a humble gift.
As I finished sewing three pairs of pajamas from patterns I drafted myself, and with jersey-knit my mother-in-law gave me years ago, I almost felt sorry for myself for not having the funds to just go buy new pajamas. When I finished at 2 am this morning, I felt so blessed. My heart full, that I am able to use my talents to bless my family. My heart full because my children were going to have more than a gingerbread toy. My hear full, because I know that my Savior loves me, and he has not forgotten me, much like 'Santa' visited my very young ancestors.
May tomorrow be joyful and peaceful as we show gratitude for our blessings. May we remember the reason for this wonderful time of year, the Birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I pray my children will look back on these years with fond memories of family time and happiness!
