On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were arranging tree ornaments, each taking our share from four boxes. Kit, now living independently, was eager to decorate her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the decorations, however, brought back memories of loss and sorrow for the children who were no longer part of our holiday celebrations.
Over eight years, our family expanded and contracted with the arrival and departure of 23 foster children. While most placements were temporary, our two children came to us through adoption during our fostering journey. To my surprise, Kit remembered the stories behind each homemade ornament, even those crafted by strangers. It became evident that her holiday memories differed significantly from mine.
As I uncovered a tree topper given to my husband and me on our first Christmas together as newlyweds, memories flooded back. The angel ornament, now held together by Krazy Glue, mirrored the cracks in our marriage that could not be repaired. Passing it to Kit, I hesitated, unsure if she would want it in its fragile state. To my relief, her eyes sparkled with joy under her festive reindeer hat.
“Mom, remember how I always wanted to place the angel on top of the tree but felt too short?” Kit reminisced, and we shared a laugh. “You’ve grown tall enough now, right?” And so, the angel found its new home with Kit.
In another box, I discovered a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament crafted by an eight-year-old foster child back in December 1999. The ornament, made from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at a foster family Christmas party, stirred up a mix of emotions. Despite the social worker’s failed attempt to secure his permanent wardship after five years in our care, we held onto the hope that he knew he was loved, even though we could no longer see or speak to him.
Sensing my somber mood, Kit took the Santa decoration from me, recalling how I always placed it near the bottom of the tree for her to play with. She admired the flames made of red pipe cleaners, comparing it to a movie scene. Like our foster children, Kit cherished simple holiday traditions over elaborate ones.
Our efforts to make Christmas inclusive for our foster children were a collective family endeavor. By adjusting our Christmas dinner dates, buying unique ornaments for each child, and allowing them to decide whether to leave the ornament with us or take it as a keepsake, we aimed to create lasting memories despite their temporary stay with us.
Unwrapping a reindeer ornament made of pompoms brought back memories of my son’s playful nickname, “Big Balls,” for the matching set. Dividing Christmas ornaments during my divorce twenty years ago was not new to me, but Kit’s appreciation for the consistency of Rudolph on the tree regardless of where she spent Christmas struck a chord.
This year’s tree decorating holds a new promise for me, as Kit’s enthusiasm and fresh perspective overshadow any lingering sadness attached to each ornament. I eagerly anticipate seeing her tree come to life with our shared memories and new beginnings.