As we get older, friends seem like family and we lose some dear ones along the way, letting us know we might go next. But when it comes to the holidays we can be childlike . (You can probably remember a special gift or two you got as a kid) My friends don’t have a lot of money so some of the gifts this year were a bit strange. Six of us met for our annual gift exchange. But we took the gifts home without opening them, because we had all had lunch together and time was limited. We also got carried away with the holiday gift giving. It took me two trips to carry it all to the car. I’m not even sure what some items are for but it was still fun to unwrap and pull out colorful tissue from gift bags revealing these things:

-A plugin snowflake shaped room deodorizer pine or peppermint scented (some assembly required.)

-Friends spoon with cute poem engraved (not for use with food or beverages.)

-Bar of goat milk soap.

-Dog gift catalog with stickers.

-Fifteen individually wrapped pretzels from Pennsylvania which are crunchy and delicious.

– A 2 foot long hand-sewn hanging kitchen piece made of fabric, shaped like a house with a floppy mini-wreath sewn on the door of the house. It has a big pocket on the lower half and two loops on the top suitable for hanging up…somewhere.

-A stick with a cute little gnome at the end.

-Gift cards.

As I opened each gift and card, I kept wondering where I would put these things. The giftcards were the best because then I could go buy what I want, especially the giftcards to a coffee shop. And of course there were also the pieces of jewelry given. You can always put those in your jewelry box, never to remember who gave them to you, or when to wear them. I don’t even want to bring up necklaces getting all tangled up.

My Dad used to say, “It’s the thought that counts.” That kept going through my mind as I looked over the collection of presents. I’m just lucky to have such generous, kind people in my life. It doesn’t matter what they gave me. Their friendship is what counts. They’re probably in turn looking over the gifts I gave them: a mug, kitchen dish towels purchased at a church gift bazaar, candy, and mini scented candles. They’re thinking the same thing I am. What will I do with all these? Do I really need any of this? What were they thinking giving these to me?

It doesn’t matter what you give to others at this time of year because just the giving part is what counts. The friendship is there. There’s love inside each gift. The friends give you meaning at this time of year.

Happy holidays!

Harsh life…

Call me crazy. At least I fit into this crazy world.

I think our SANDERSON family, meaning Grandparents and their six children, went through harsh, difficult, stressful times on the prairie and experiencing small town prairie life in the first part of the 1900’s. They were lucky to have a Model T, a couple horses and a wagon. After my grandparents, M.E. and Mary, were married in Iowa they headed to South Dakota around 1911 crossing the Missouri River precariously with the help of ropes and river navigators willing and ready. I imagine that was a scary way to get across a major river.

They lived through the uncertain times of young newly wed life, having six children, the dirty 1930’s which were challenging in their times, and life on the farm with minimal farm equipment and no technology in sight. They knew the meaning of hard times, little money and harsh realities.The harsh life strangely brought out more goodness, kindness and resolve in their hearts, buried more love in their souls. It did cause depression to which my Mom, Ella and Aunt Elna attested. My Mom often told me that her Dad, M.E. Sanderson would get discouraged and later maybe in his mid-thirties would spend hours in a dark root cellar just to himself out on their Horse Creek farm. This was unusual for him because he had to constantly be working or caring for livestock and crops. The family knew this was not the normal behavior from the head of a household of eight individuals. Aunt Elna told someone once that they wouldn’t have all survived growing up if Uncle Wayne, the oldest of the six children, hadn’t stepped up and worked hard as a kid to get money from the sale of crows and skins from trapping animals some state agency paid him for since the animals were a hindrance to farmers. All the kids were put to work on the farms in those days.

I think all our heritage, our history, our past bloodline follows us in both small and large ways, weaving life into a fine fabric, its threads taken from this grandmother’s line or that grandfather’s or from an uncle or an ancient cousin from far away lands. We derive our strength from their strength with their bloodline trickling into ours. You might take after a particularly lovely relative with beautiful big hazel eyes from someone far back in your family tree, like someone you never knew.

You carry a million years of history in your DNA from humans who lived thousands of years ago, yet we often just say, “You take after your Mother with your dark hair and hazel eyes.” Perhaps we didn’t go back far enough in the family tree. We narrow down the years. Naturally there are a myriad of different traits and characteristics from our entire past.

Grandma and Grandpa Sanderson had traits that weren’t just physical. They showed their strength and resilience which came from deep within their souls and hearts. All these things were part of their personalities yet the harsh lives they endured played a part as well. Who they were was formed from what they had lived through, why they were so strong, and where they had lived. The prairie life can be brutal and forge what you are from tough times.

My cousin, Mary, often recalls how our SANDERSON grandparents never once yelled nor disciplined us as young children running around their house, yelling and screaming, eating their food or playing dress up with grandma’s clothes and hiding in their bedroom closet. They led by example and kindnesses. They showed us what to become as they had become.

Sure, I might be crazy saying all this. Harsh reality can either make us rise up to become our best version of ourselves or knock us down. Do we stay down? I would like to think that we stay the course and follow our grandparent’s example.