My mother must’ve kept everything my sister and I ever made for Christmas. Some things were put together in school, but most were done in Sunday School.
Same is true for anything we ever made, regardless of the time of year.
Decades later at a Christmas gathering, if something someone says reminds my mom of a drawing I did in Vacation Bible School in 1967, she leaves the room and moments later returns with a drawing for all to see.
I never understood this until I had children.
The thought that I had a hand in creating another human being was overwhelming enough. But to watch one of my kids create something and then give it to me was just about the best thing ever. It still is.
When kids can’t build or make something they want to give their mom or dad, they save their pennies to buy it for them. In my writing studio, I still proudly display a model ship in a glass case that my youngest son saved to get me when he was about seven. If there’s ever a fire, it’ll be one of the things I grab on my way out the door.
By John Moore
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