There’s something about Christmas that makes people think “Little House.” Something about those Christmases of long ago that people connect with. The simplicity… the joy… it’s what people want their Christmas to be like.
And yet so often it’s not, is it?
I’m having a stress-free Christmas this year. I’m not traveling. Not cooking. Not baking. I didn’t send Christmas cards. I only bought a handful of presents, and took care of that before Thanksgiving so as not to have to face the madness of Christmas crowds at the stores, or have that anxiety of not being able to find the right gift in time.
So really, the only “chore” I’ve had this entire Christmas season was that of decorating the tree.
And decorating my Christmas tree is for me a very Little Housey experience. Because nearly every ornament on my tree contains a Little House memory.
First, there are the ornaments purchased from the Little House sites themselves. Mansfield has a whole set, one representing each b
ook, and there have been several others sold by various sites at different points in time that I’ve been able to pick up.
And then the classic iconic ornaments. A log cabin. A covered wagon. A fiddle. A lantern. A corncob doll.
And of course, we mustn’t forget the Little House Christmas gifts themselves. Peppermint sticks. Tin cups. A button string. And little red mittens.
And then there are those that require a little more thought to understand their Little House association.
The little brown bear, representative of “Two Big Bears” from the Big Woods.
Or how about this light shining in the kitchen window, reminding me of the Christmas Pa was lost in the blizzard on Plum Creek, when Ma set the lamp in the window but the blizzard was so fierce that Pa could not see it shining his way home.
Or the Currier & Ives sleigh ride ornament, not only reminding me of the winter courtship of Laura and Almanzo, but a print they themselves hung in Rocky Ridge.
Several weeks ago, I asked for ways that each of you give your families a Little House Christmas. For me, it’s the tree. It’s the reminder when I see that little light shining that Christmas is a time to give thanks for the health and safety of your family. It’s the reminder when I see that tin cup or those little red mittens that simple gifts really are sufficient, for it’s the love behind the gift that really matters. It’s the warmth I feel from seeing Pa’s fiddle and remembering how it brought joy to the Ingalls family even in the darkest of times. It’s an ever-present reminder that the happiest Christmases come through the simplest things.
Have a very merry Little House Christmas!