There's Hope For TodaySample

Childhood Christmas memories revolve around my grandmother. The Christmas fires burned bright in the Crabtree home, and she was the keeper of the flame. She was to Christmas what Carson was to late night, or Cosell to Monday Night Football. She loved Christmas with the enthusiasm of a child.

A snow-covered house on Court Street in Bangor was alive with lights and ribbons, the smell of turkey, and the laughter of Helen Crabtree and her adoring grandchildren. We gathered around a large mahogany table for a Christmas feast. Grandpa was responsible for the prayer. Grandma was responsible for the party. When she got sick, she saved her strength for Christmas.

In my memories, Christmas marked her decline. One year she greeted us from a walker, then a wheelchair, then – a hospital bed. When Grandma died, she left a void no one could fill. We felt it most at Christmas. Grandpa became the guest, rather than the host. My parents made it a grand occasion – but Christmas changed when she died. No one could supply the “magic” she held in her heart. Her life enriched others.

The great English preacher, G. Campbell Morgan said it best: “Live so as to be missed.” She did, and she is.