My parents were experts in delivering a magical holiday season for my sisters and me. We didn’t have much, but that didn’t matter. Mom and Dad created Christmas mornings I will never forget. From a tree decorated with our arts and crafts and a small selection of blown-glass ornaments to hand-crafted gifts Dad made in his workshop to pajamas Mom sewed and sweaters she knitted or crocheted. She even made matching outfits for our dolls. But this Noah’s Ark is my favorite.
At the time, I believed Santa and his elves made this for us. I even felt sorry for other kids because my sisters and I received toys straight from the North Pole workshop and they didn’t. Years later, I learned the truth. The real magic wasn’t Santa. It was my parents.
Dad built the ark by hand in his workshop. Mom drew each animal, and my father cut them out. Then they painted them together, side by side, tired, short on money, and completely committed to making Christmas feel magical for three little girls.
There were no batteries. No instructions. No brand names. Just imagination, love, and the teamwork of two people who understood wonder doesn’t come with a price tag.
That ark has survived years of play, countless floods on the living room floor, three spirited girls, and two energetic grandchildren. (We won’t mention the hippopotamus’ untimely demise when my nephew added wood to the fireplace.)
But more than that, it carried something far bigger than wooden animals. It carried effort. Sacrifice. Joy. And the kind of love that teaches you, long before you know it, what truly matters.
That’s the Christmas magic that stays with you forever and ever.
Wishing you all a magical holiday season and very Merry Christmas.
Cheers,
Shari
P.S. If you’re looking for the perfect hot toddy for the season, check out this Hot Buttered Rum recipe.
What a generous gift your parents gave you, Shari. (And I’m not talking about the handmade toys.) Merry Christmas, my friend. XO.
We need their Christmas spirit in the world today. 😊