A new Christmas Tradition: Memories that last a Lifetime

My newest Christmas tradition may not be all that revolutionary or shocking, but it's surprising how special it feels, even though it may seem obvious to others.  It's ornaments.
Or more precisely, the thoughtful, slow, long-term collection of meaningful ornaments over the span of years. Maybe you've thought of it before or maybe it's already part of your holiday routine, but in this household, it's still kind of new and I'm determined to make it stick.
There are so many different ways you can make ornament collecting part of your holiday.  It is heartfelt and meaningful, and doesn't buy too much in to consumerism.  Every ornament has a story, and few cost more than $10.  Almost all of them were handmade.  The trick is patience, time, and a lot of thought.  Each one should be personal, should evoke a special memory.  What else could make a Christmas tree beautiful?

Leave a Legacy

It all started when my cousin was born (I wasn't even conceived yet).  My grandmother started collecting one ornament per grandchild for every year of their life.  None of us knew.  It was a well-kept secret.  She died shortly before Christmas 2006, and that year, when my family gathered, it was a subdued affair.  Fast forward a year later, and though our grief was still there and her absence still felt, we had one last surprise from her waiting under the tree.
Each of her seven grandchildren had a box brimming with ornaments-- and I don't mean plastic baubles you can get at Canadian Tire.  Each one was hand-crafted by local artists (she frequented craft shows and church bazaars) and each and every one was unique to us.  While my girlish cousin J got ornaments of shoes and jewels and cupcakes, my ornaments were of skiing mice and puppies tangled in ribbon. My hockey-loving brother got snowflakes and skates. The younger cousins had fewer: one for every year since their birth until my grandmother's death meant slightly fewer ornaments for them.  We each had between 13-18; nothing to sneeze at when you move out and have your first tree!  They are more precious to me than gold or silver.  They are her legacy and my way to remember her.

Our tree, not an empty branch to spare

Record your Relationship

A few years later, my boyfriend presented me with an ornament as part of my Christmas gift.  It is two snowman holding a sign that says "Our First Christmas: 2009".  Since then, we go back and forth every year for whose turn it is to the buy the ornament.  The only rule is that it has to say the year somewhere on it.  The second year, I bought the ornament.  Two frogs dressed up like Santa, personalized with our names and the year. In 2011, the ornament was ordered from a woodworker on eBay.  It records our puppy's first Christmas.  And so on and so forth...  Someday maybe we'll have our own tree, filled with my grandmother's ornaments, and one documenting every year we've been together.  I like the idea of a slow tree-decorating evening, sipping on eggnog, listening to Christmas tunes, and reminiscing.  "Oh, that was the year we got Monkey!  Remember how small he was?"  "Oh this one is from the year you went out West!"...

Custom woodburning, from eBay

Make New Memories

My parents' tree also has a lot of history behind it.  It's certainly not one of those colour-coordinated stylish trees you see popping up in magazines and stores.  No.  Our tree is chaos.  It's laden with years of memories.  It's like a drunk elf threw up on it.

Of course, some of the ornaments are just cutesy or gifts from friends and neighbours.  But many of them have stories too.  There's a koala bear from their Australia trip.  A sparkly fish from our week-long trip to Cape Cod.  You get the picture.  When they travel somewhere, instead of coming back with a useless figurine or knick-knack that will take up shelf space and gather dust, they bring home a Christmas ornament, and reflect on their many blessings and wonderful voyages as they decorate their tree.  And isn't it nice to know, as you hang that ornament of a sunburnt, swimming-trunk sporting Santa on a green bow, that you were once baking under the sun, digging your toes in the sand, listening only to the rush of the ocean?  That there is someplace, somewhere out there, that isn't buried in snow?  It is for me.

It's hard to think about Christmas in August, but I'm glad I did.