I love Christmas, the lights, the smells, the music. I love baking and sewing and picking out gifts for family and friends. I love wrapping the presents and placing them gently under the decorated tree. Since I am usually finished shopping and wrapping by Thanksgiving, seeing those packages under the tree brings great anticipation for the looks on the faces of those who receive them.
One year, I sewed three-foot-tall Raggedy Ann dolls for my three young granddaughters. I chose different fabrics for each of the dolls’ dresses and aprons. And each doll sported a different color of yarn for her floppy hair. It took the better part of a week to sew the pieces together and two days to finish the hair—one yarn strand at a time. When I finished, I lined them up on the couch and imagined how the girls would react when they first saw them.
My oldest granddaughter, Zoee, who was seven, carefully pulled at the tape so as not to tear the wrapping paper. When she opened the box and lifted her doll, she oohed and ahhed, hugged me, and thanked me. My youngest granddaughter, Presley, age two, didn’t know what to think since her doll was taller than she was. But my six-year-old, special-needs granddaughter, Zaylee, eagerly ripped the paper and threw the lid off the box. She reached into the box, grabbed her doll, hugged it to her chest, and exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh! It’s what I always wanted!”
Everyone in the room laughed. When I looked over at my mom, tears rolled down her face. It was the best reaction I could have hoped for.
If Santa asked me today what I always wanted, I would tell him more family unity, joy in each other’s accomplishments, strength in adversity, and contentment with what I have. I would tell him I wanted less contention, neglect, sadness, confusion, misunderstanding, and loneliness. I want to look back at the end of my days and exclaim, “Oh, my gosh! My life—it’s what I always wanted!”