Angie from Wyoming shared a wonderful story of how a small gesture can grow over time into a cherished family Christmas tradition:

“My mother began a Christmas tradition over 60 years ago when she was a young mother. At times, I think she wishes she would not have started it, but there is no stopping it.

Years ago, she found a pattern in what she believes was Better Homes and Gardens magazine for knitted Christmas stockings. She had three small children at the time and knitted each one a stocking which was personalized with their names knit into the pattern...the tradition began.

Not only has she hand-knitted Christmas stockings for several of her friends’ children as well as nieces and nephews, she has knitted stockings for all of her eight children and their spouses, 24 grandchildren and their spouses, and over 30 great-grandchildren. The Christmas stockings are such a big deal, I had to change the spelling of my oldest daughter’s name so it would fit within the parameters of the stocking pattern.

Each stocking takes weeks to complete and as the years have gone by, they are getting larger as her crippled hands knit more loosely than when she knitted her very first one. To date, the last stocking was finished days ago for my granddaughter…Someday as she grows older, hopefully she will cherish the hands and heart that created such a masterpiece.

I am grateful for my mother's selfless determination to carry on this tradition and know it hasn't been easy. I love her so much for that and am convinced I am going to have to learn to knit, not because my future grandchildren need matching stockings, but because I want her legacy of love to continue.”

PS - Angie sent me this story in 2011, so I assume she’s learned to knit by now!

Danella from Texas also has a wonderful family Christmas tradition that’s being handed down across generations:

“Growing up in Saskatchewan, Canada It was always a 'White Christmas'. Christmas morning was always cold in the house when I would get up to get my stocking, and looked to see what Santa had brought me. It was usually before Daddy had fired up the furnace to warm the house up. Our stockings were the only gift we were allowed to have before getting dressed and having breakfast.

Then everyone gathered around the Christmas tree while Daddy read the Christmas story from Luke chapter 2, and we children explained 'why we celebrated Christmas with gifts'. Every year, it was the same. After I grew up and had children of my own, we did the same; and now when my grandchildren come for Christmas, we wait to open gifts until the Christmas Story is read and we all know why we celebrate with gifts.

My parents knew how to make sure we children knew that Christ really was in Christmas.”

Recently, police officers have become targets of hatred, assaults and even deadly violence.  Now is a perfect time to stop and reflect on the many ways in which police officers and other first responders such as firefighters and EMTs give up their holidays so that we can enjoy ours in safety.  Many officers also go above and beyond the call of duty by performing incredible volunteer work.  One of those was a listener of mine named Randy, a retired police sergeant from Wyoming.  He shared a memory of a tradition of playing Santa Claus that should have come with hazardous duty pay. 

Randy wrote:

"For many years, it was my distinct pleasure to assume the role of 'real Santa' at Christmas time. Though my sleigh was still a black and white sedan, my uniform changed from dark blues to a genuine Santa suit. I appeared on Christmas Eve, right at bedtime, delivering toys to needy children as well as my fellow officers…who had small children. What made this all work was the 'understanding' of the parents to make sure the kids were close to the front window upon my arrival, that they were not allowed out on the porch (where I left their gifts) until I was out of sight, and under NO circumstances were any pets to be loose.

All the parents were following Santa's instructions to the letter...until I got to my Chief's house. I gently placed (his sons') gifts on the porch (and) began to shake the bells, anticipating three squashed, tiny faces peering into the frosty night, trying to catch a glimpse of Santa. To my surprise...No faces. I shook the bells harder and added a hearty ‘HO, HO, HO!’ Still, no faces.

Now in mid-‘HO,’ I heard the front door open and a small dog barking. 'For cryin' out loud,' I muttered, as I jumped toward the driveway. If only I'd remembered the small wire fence surrounding his wife's flower bed. There was no time to pick myself up, as I heard high-pitched giggles floating on the cold night air.  A quick double combat roll placed me out of innocent eyes' way, underneath my boss's pickup truck."

Then Randy heard a noise that seemed to be very close: "I smelled the dog food on his breath a scant millisecond before he yapped out the alarm. The 'WHOA!' that jumped from my lips was cut painfully short as I rammed my head into the pickup's driveline... The thought crossed my mind to reach out and pinch off his little windpipe, but that seemed a bit ugly for Christmas Eve."

A pair of cowboy boots suddenly replaced the dog: "I recognized my boss's voice as the words, 'Merry Christmas, heh, heh, heh," settled onto the cold concrete... 'Merry Christmas, Chief,' I replied as a solitary drop of black engine oil struck me dead center in the forehead. 'THANKS FOR NOT TURNING ON THE PORCH LIGHT!'

I continued on my rounds, a black greasy racing stripe running from my white curly beard to my belt, a well-lubricated lump on my forehead. I finished just as a soft snow began to fall, covering everything in a glistening blanket of white. It seemed the perfect punctuation mark to end another Christmas on Patrol."

Thanks again for that great story, Randy.  And thanks to all the police officers and other first responders and military members who go above and beyond, and sometimes even roll underneath, to keep us all safe during the holidays and all year ‘round.