This first Christmas without Momma evokes so many memories

This is going to be my first Christmas without my mother. She is on my mind a lot these days. We put her in the ground last summer, and maybe because she was ill for so many years and it was a very long goodbye, I felt almost a relief when she finally quit fighting and let life go. But, when you have had your mother for over 60 years and the first Christmas without her is a few weeks away, you begin to ready yourself for Christmas without her.

She taught us the true meaning of Christmas. She was a "PK," a Preacher's Kid. While she was a true PK and rebelled against everything as soon as she could, even becoming a U.S. Marine in WW II at the early age of 19, she kept the faith when it came to the "reason for the season." With four sons and a daughter to raise by herself, we never had much in the way of "store bought" Christmas presents under the tree, but we had a great holiday season. There was something going on at Belle Fontaine Baptist Church in Fontainebleau, Miss. almost every night the two weeks before the big day.

We each had parts every year in the Christmas play, sang in the Christmas cantata, went to the many parties that we had and somehow we found people that were poorer than we were and made presents for them. We each got a "hard candy" Christmas stocking every year.

I can still remember the apple and orange that was in each stocking, and how the candy stuck to each so bad that we could hardly eat it without getting it all over us. As I grew older, I got to be "Joseph" one year in the Christmas play and the next year I directed the play. I actually had a live baby for "Baby Jesus" and the baby was perfect all the way through the entire presentation. I was a huge hit. It was a sign of passage for me.

My mother would make sure that we never missed a night the church was open. It was our community center.

One year, I recall that my brother Larry got into a fight with Buster Bilbo. Buster tried to take his orange. Buster was a bully, and while Larry was greatly outweighed and very thin for his age, he whupped Buster good. Hit him in the nose and made it bleed. It was the first time I had ever seen a bloody nose on anyone. Momma came running and when she asked what happened, "Larry said, "Buster stole my orange and I got it back." No one could believe that "little" Larry had beat up big old Buster. My mother asked me if he was telling the truth and I said, "Yep, he whupped his butt good!" She walked over to Buster and told him if he ever touched one of her children again, she'd bloody his entire body! Larry grew up to serve four tours in Vietnam and became one of the toughest U.S. Marines I ever knew. Buster never got over any of us and grew up to become a pulp wood hauler. It was a great Christmas!

My grandpa was the local pastor for almost all of my childhood. The Rev. Henry D. Walker could tell you the Christmas story and make you believe it just happened last week. It came alive when he talked about the wise men and the angel that came to Joseph and Mary. You could almost smell the manger baby Jesus was born in. It seemed that the more I listened, the more it all seemed possible.

We never had Santa Claus until I went to Elementary School. I thought he was kind of silly actually, but I got into it because Momma said that Santa was a man that Jesus had actually given permission to help spread the Christmas spirit all over the world. That was good enough for me. I still believe in Santa Claus, and I still take time each Christmas season to attend Church and make myself remember that hard knot pine fire that burned in our fireplace every night for warmth and was the only light we had.

I still tear up when I see a Christmas tree with pop corn strung up on it, because that was the only decorations we had other than red rags that we were told were ribbons. I still love Christmas presents that were made for me by someone that cared enough about me to make it and I still love petting my dog by the fire and talking to my mother. She can't answer me now, but I still talk to her.

My mother is the reason I have any Christmas memories of my childhood at all. She is the reason I love all people more at this time of the year. She is the reason I go to my sister Dixie's house every year the day after Christmas and hug her. Dixie reminds me of her so much. Mother is the reason I smile when I look at my wife and remember that momma called her "pretty." Mother is the reason I have three brothers that made entire my life fuller. Mother is the one thing I'm going to miss this Christmas, so much that I know it's going to hurt. She once told me that Christmas is the time of the year that "HOPE" comes alive for all people that believe in themselves. She was right. I miss you Momma.

If you can, go call your mother. I wish I could call mine.

Just thought you'd like to know...