Remembering Childhood: A Peaceful Gift
Some of us had happy childhoods.
Some of us didn't.
But, we all have memories of it.
What a gift we possess just in that alone.
We can remember being children. We can remember sharpening pencils, listening to our teachers, playing with our friends and anticipating Christmas.
In 1984, my 5-year-old sister, Lisa, gave my dad a brush from Avon for Christmas. Well, my mom gave my sister a brush to give my dad for Christmas.
It looked like this one:
He was really into baseball. He still is really into baseball. My parents had a sign that said "We interrupt this marriage to bring you the baseball season" in our kitchen.
Lisa was so excited to give that brush to him. She helped my mom wrap it. There was no gift bag. There was no box. There just was wrapping paper around the brush.
She just knew he wouldn't guess what she had given him.
"What did you get me, Lisa?" he asked.
"I not gonna tell you."
"Is it a tie?"
"I not gonna tell you."
"Is it a shirt?"
"I not gonna tell you, Daddy."
"Is it a brush?"
"Nooooo."
"Can I brush my hair with it?"
"Yes."
She was true to her word.
We tell that story a lot in our family. It just so perfectly captures the sweetness, youth, innocence and purity of a child.
I know we all have stories like that one that surround the holidays.
And I know that we all are remembering the sweet children in Connecticut that won't be able to share the holidays with their families anymore. Children who have toys wrapped under the tree and who, perhaps, have wrapped something for a family member already, like Lisa did so long ago.
What a gift to have memories of our childhood.
My mind won't let much time pass before I think about that day, those children and those brave adults of Sandy Hook Elementary.
When I read that their tiny bodies were still were they fell as night came on Friday night, I lost it. They were still there. Their parents couldn't pick them up and hug them yet, as the investigation was on-going.
They were still there.
Those sweet babies.
Seeing their faces, learning their names, hearing unique things about them and watching their parents' as they process through their terrible grief has reminded all of us how short life truly, truly is for all of us.
One quote that stayed with me, and I can't remember where I read it now, was from a woman of Newtown. She was asked how the town would recover from something so horrific to which she replied, "We must. There are still children left."
There are still children left.
I find great comfort in knowing that so many across the nation are lifting up the adults and children hurting the deepest in Connecticut in prayer.
As I was deep in thought about all of this sadness, I received an e-mail from Chad Lawson, an award-winning pianist that previously toured with Julio Iglesias, asking if I would like to pass on one of his Christmas CDs, Solo Piano Christmas, to one of you.
This CD.
It is beautiful, you guys.
As my sons went to sleep last night, I played a sampling of each song to them. What Child Is This. It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. Jesu, Joy of Man's Desire. They loved listening to them all. You can listen to the sampling here.
The music was so peaceful.
It was soothing.
Healing.
His e-mail truly could not have come at a better time.
If you would like to receive this CD in a few days from now, just leave a comment. I will randomly pick one of you by tomorrow, Tuesday the 18th, at 10:00 p.m. and will send an e-mail to get your address. We will then send it directly to you.
Some of us didn't.
But, we all have memories of it.
What a gift we possess just in that alone.
We can remember being children. We can remember sharpening pencils, listening to our teachers, playing with our friends and anticipating Christmas.
In 1984, my 5-year-old sister, Lisa, gave my dad a brush from Avon for Christmas. Well, my mom gave my sister a brush to give my dad for Christmas.
It looked like this one:
 |
| I found this one on Etsy here. |
He was really into baseball. He still is really into baseball. My parents had a sign that said "We interrupt this marriage to bring you the baseball season" in our kitchen.
Lisa was so excited to give that brush to him. She helped my mom wrap it. There was no gift bag. There was no box. There just was wrapping paper around the brush.
She just knew he wouldn't guess what she had given him.
"What did you get me, Lisa?" he asked.
"I not gonna tell you."
"Is it a tie?"
"I not gonna tell you."
"Is it a shirt?"
"I not gonna tell you, Daddy."
"Is it a brush?"
"Nooooo."
"Can I brush my hair with it?"
"Yes."
She was true to her word.
We tell that story a lot in our family. It just so perfectly captures the sweetness, youth, innocence and purity of a child.
I know we all have stories like that one that surround the holidays.
And I know that we all are remembering the sweet children in Connecticut that won't be able to share the holidays with their families anymore. Children who have toys wrapped under the tree and who, perhaps, have wrapped something for a family member already, like Lisa did so long ago.
What a gift to have memories of our childhood.
My mind won't let much time pass before I think about that day, those children and those brave adults of Sandy Hook Elementary.
When I read that their tiny bodies were still were they fell as night came on Friday night, I lost it. They were still there. Their parents couldn't pick them up and hug them yet, as the investigation was on-going.
They were still there.
Those sweet babies.
Seeing their faces, learning their names, hearing unique things about them and watching their parents' as they process through their terrible grief has reminded all of us how short life truly, truly is for all of us.
One quote that stayed with me, and I can't remember where I read it now, was from a woman of Newtown. She was asked how the town would recover from something so horrific to which she replied, "We must. There are still children left."
There are still children left.
I find great comfort in knowing that so many across the nation are lifting up the adults and children hurting the deepest in Connecticut in prayer.
As I was deep in thought about all of this sadness, I received an e-mail from Chad Lawson, an award-winning pianist that previously toured with Julio Iglesias, asking if I would like to pass on one of his Christmas CDs, Solo Piano Christmas, to one of you.
This CD.
It is beautiful, you guys.
As my sons went to sleep last night, I played a sampling of each song to them. What Child Is This. It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. Jesu, Joy of Man's Desire. They loved listening to them all. You can listen to the sampling here.
The music was so peaceful.
It was soothing.
Healing.
His e-mail truly could not have come at a better time.
If you would like to receive this CD in a few days from now, just leave a comment. I will randomly pick one of you by tomorrow, Tuesday the 18th, at 10:00 p.m. and will send an e-mail to get your address. We will then send it directly to you.
 |
| Chad Lawson |