Christmas Ornaments & The Stories They Tell

There’s an ornament on our tree that hangs front and center now.  It’s a beautiful glass ornament with Rylie’s face shining through.  Surrounding her, the lights of the tree twinkle through the glass and glimmer off the gold sequins that rest inside it.  

It’s the perfect ornament in so many ways – the way it reflects the lights of the tree reminds me of the way light would bounce off of her hair.  The twinkle of the gold sequins reminds me of the way her eyes would glimmer with joy when she was up to something sweet, or something not so sweet.  The way the sequins move freely throughout the ornament when we hang it remind me of the hours that she would spend playing with our snow globes every Christmas. 

It makes me sad that circumstances have us hanging this ornament front and center, but I love the way it reflects Rylie so well.  I love the memories that it evokes and that we had a friend care enough to give us this beautiful gift on our first Christmas without her. 

Even before Rylie died, decorating our Christmas tree was an ordeal of sorts in our house.  Our tree is full of unique ornaments, each with a story or memory. There are ornaments that the kids made in preschool, that while sweet aren’t all that pretty to look at.  There are ornaments that the kids would fight over because they were their “favorite”. There are carefully beaded ornaments that my aunt made every year, but that sometimes come unpinned scattering beads and sequins and the ever elusive tiny pin that someone is bound to step on. There are personalized ornaments with each of our names and a corresponding year – growing over the years from two, to three, to four.  There are ornaments that were gifts from students. There are ornaments that we exchanged with friends and family in an effort to build each kid’s collection so that when they moved out on their own, they’d have plenty to decorate their first tree with.  

It was always fun to watch the decorating process – watching it change as the kids grew and matured.  In the early years, all the ornaments would be bunched up at their eye level and in sections claimed by each kid.  They didn’t seem to understand that they could disperse the ornaments over the whole tree and create an experience for everyone.  Instead they wanted to horde their ornaments for their own viewing pleasure.  

As they grew older, they began to spread out the decor a little more, but one could generally still identify which ornaments were “Rylie’s” and which ones were “Tanner’s”.  Still as they grew older, they began to ask about where certain ornaments came from or why one of my favorite ornaments is a spiderweb when I absolutely hate spiders.  

Each year it was fun to see our ornament collection grow as the kids began to make unique ornaments for their teachers, coaches and other important figures in their lives.  Usually, we had enough supplies to make one for our own tree. One year there was the melted snowman ornament. Another year, there was a quirky Rudolph who’d gotten himself tangled in lights. 

On what ended up being Rylie’s last Christmas with us, she made everyone’s present.  That was pretty typical of her. She loved to spend time creating just the right gift for people and often roped others into the affair – whether it was helping her purchase supplies, or planning the project – it was always thought out and included others.  

For her last Christmas she made Ziggy a customized ornament.  It’s a giant clear plastic ball that she made hockey themed. She called up Nana and asked her to take her shopping for Christmas gifts.  They scoured the stores together to find the right supplies for everything. After a trip to Michaels, Rylie was able to snag some really great scrapbook type stickers that she used to decorate the ball.  There’s a hockey helmet, ice rink and skate on the outside. Inside the ball she carefully inserted a stick and some pucks, to give it a snow globe feel. Then she carefully wrote “Daddy” on the outside.  

This gift, it sums up Rylie’s heart perfectly.  While she didn’t know how to do fancy lettering and didn’t have a fortune to spend on real hockey gear, she knew what made her dad smile and she put together a representation of that.  I’ll never forget the look on either of their faces when Ziggy opened that gift.  

Rylie’s eyes sparkled mischievously with a hint of pride.  I’m pretty sure, she loved the art of gift giving even more than receiving gifts.  Ziggy’s eyes misted when he saw the planning and effort that went into the gift and the way it brought her so much pleasure.  That was just the way Rylie was and her impact with these thoughtful, handmade gifts lives on.

Earlier this season, a teacher texted me a picture of her Christmas tree.  Proudly displayed was the melted snowman ornament that Rylie made her years ago.  Along with each ornament, she wrote a poem about the melted snowman and included that in the gift bags.  

Just the other day, I was at our neighbor’s house and saw the tangled Rudolph ornament hanging from their tree.  It was also proudly displayed so that it could be seen in the window as guests wait to be greeted at the door. That year, the Rudolph ornaments were accompanied by a story that indicated how the reindeer found himself in that particular predicament.  

It’s humbling to think of the way Rylie put so much thought and effort into the gifts she gave.  Although each year, her teachers, coaches, and neighbors received the same ornament, each one was delivered with its own special flair giving the recipient the feeling that it was made especially for them.  I think that’s why these ornaments still adorn their trees.

I think that’s why decorating the tree these days comes not only with joy, but also a level of sadness or increased nostalgia.  While we still love going through the ornaments and sharing memories, it’s harder now. While the ornaments are getting spread out more and more on the tree, often higher than I can reach since Tanner’s taller than me now, there’s still a twinkle of laughter missing.  

Each year, as we set up our tree, there is laughter but there are tears mixed in. This year, Tanner and I both had moments where we just had to sit and hold an ornament that reminded us of Rylie while tears streamed down our face.  We found ourselves leaning into each other of a hug or a moment of quiet remembrance.  

Each time we hang one of our customized family ornaments, I find myself thinking about how I can’t quite bring myself to get one with the current year.  It doesn’t seem right to go from four little snowmen, to three, nor does it seem right to keep four.  

With the passing of each year, I find myself thinking about how I need to get Tanner his ornament for that year and realizing that I don’t necessarily have to write his initials on it.  As I shared some of these traditions with a friend, she quietly asked me if I still buy Rylie an ornament. I paused, shook my head, and then wondered about it some more. On one hand, it seems silly.  Rylie won’t have a tree to decorate as an adult, in a place of her own. On the other hand, it seems sweet a way to remember her, to keep her spirit alive during the holidays.

I don’t know if I’ll buy Rylie an ornament this year.  Perhaps I’ll skip that and channel her gifting spirit; creating an ornament for our family.  One that’s thoughtful and represents our year at a glance or highlights a moment, a feeling, or theme for the year.  Or one that’s quirky and has a personality like the melted snowman or tangled Rudolph. Maybe I’ll make two – one for our tree and one for Tanner’s so that he will always have a piece of Rylie on his tree in the future.

Regardless of what I decide to do, I’m grateful for the tangible memories of our Christmas tree.  The memories that make me laugh, even the ones that make me cry. I’m grateful for the way Rylie inspires me daily to put a little more thought and a little more care into everything I do.  I’m grateful for tangible reminders of her spirit, her childlike joy at the season as she played with snow globes, and her ‘wiser than her years’ focus on creating a gift that was more than an item, but an experience and a reminder of her love through a simple, yet thoughtful gesture.