David Heiller
Christmas
is a time of giving. Sometimes the gifts are worth money. Sometimes they are
worth much more.
Take the gift of a phone call home. I
called my mother last week, without really planning to. I’d just received a letter
from her, and had written recently too. But I needed to talk to her.
I didn’t have much to say. Our
Christmas plans, when we could meet in Minneapolis. She talked about the
weather in Brownsville, the big snowstorm they had. Noah took the phone, and told
her about his deer antler quest, how Grandma Marge at school had promised to
bring him one. Then I took the phone again, lingering on small talk, until we
said good bye.
After I hung up, I felt better. That
calm old voice from home carried with it some inner strength that I needed. Now
I realize that phone call was an unknowing gift from Mom.
How about the gift of a walk in the
woods? We tramped down an abandoned township road on Saturday afternoon. Binti
lead the way, sniffing for squirrels, criss-crossing into the woods on either
side.
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| Binti was moving slower, but never turned down a walk, or a Christmas cookie! |
It was a joy to watch her, because
she’s 11½, and spends more and more of her time in front of the wood stove. She’s
stiff in the rear, and almost totally deaf, but there she was, the old Binti,
tail wagging, nose to the ground but always keeping us in sight with that radar
that dogs seem to have, always knowing where they are and where YOU are.
I must have gone soft on the walk
too, because when we stopped for a cup of tea and some cookies, we handed one
to Binti. I repeat: WE GAVE A CHRISTMAS COOKIE TO OUR DOG. Never in Binti’s
long history has this happened. She seemed to know it too, because she had the
cookie chewed and swallowed before we could blink, like she didn’t want us to
change our mind. Maybe she knew it was a Christmas gift.
Walks have a lot of gifts, like
seeing a couple of deer take off from their snack of poplar bark, bounding
across the trail in front of you, then watching a seven-year-old boy leave a
slice of apple at that spot, for the deer to find as a treat.
Having that little boy’s hand fit
like a glove into your hand as you walk, looking at tracks and searching the
ground for the elusive deer antler. These are all great gifts.
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| I mostly did a ridiculous number of cookies myself, but when I could get together with my friend Carolyn, we made sandbakkels. David loved them! |
Cookies are, too. Cindy has been
baking almost nonstop, with the help of us kids now and then: Santa’s
Thumbprints and peppernuts, Russian teacakes and sugar cookies, rosettes and
chocolate cookies.
The cookies seem to grow endlessly on
the counter, row upon row, filling Tupperware and freezers and kids and dads.
When I got up last Saturday morning, and saw a counter full of peanut blossoms,
I thought for a split second, “Not more cookies!” But in the next instant, I
came to my senses and realized, “You can never, I repeat, NEVER, have enough
Christmas cookies.” Cookies are a Christmas gift, all right.
These are a few of those Christmas
gifts that are worth more than anything you can find at the store. You’ve got
your own special ones too, and I hope you enjoy them. Have a merry Christmas.
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