On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were organizing four boxes of tree decorations, dividing them between us. Kit, now living independently, wanted to set up her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the ornaments brought back memories of loss and sorrow for children who were no longer part of our holiday celebrations.
Over eight years, our family grew and shrank as we fostered 23 children. Most placements were temporary, and while fostering, our two children were adopted. I was amazed that Kit remembered the stories behind each handmade ornament, even from makers she had never met. It was surprising to realize that many of her holiday recollections differed from mine.
As I uncovered a tree topper from our first Christmas as newlyweds, memories of our fractured marriage resurfaced. Despite the crack in the iridescent angel that Krazy Glue held together, I handed it to Kit. Her eyes sparkled beneath her festive reindeer hat as she happily accepted the fragile angel, reminiscing about her childhood desire to be the one to place it atop the tree.
Opening another tin, I found a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament crafted by an eight-year-old boy we fostered. Made from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at a foster family Christmas party, it stirred a mix of lingering grief and anger. Our attempts to secure his permanent placement failed, leading to a painful separation. Kit, sensing my emotions, took the ornament, recalling how I always placed it low on the tree for her to play with, noting the flames at the back of the sleigh reminiscent of a movie.
Our approach to inclusive holiday celebrations for our foster children was a joint effort with my former husband and parents. Adjusting our Christmas dinner dates to allow the children to spend time with their families on Christmas and Boxing Day was a priority. We established a tradition of gifting each child unique ornaments, giving them the choice to leave it with us or take it when they left our home permanently. This practice led to the Santa and reindeer ornament crafted by our eight-year-old foster son becoming a part of my collection.
Among the ornaments was a reindeer made of pompoms, ribbon, googly eyes, and pipe cleaner antlers, nicknamed “Big Balls” by my son. Reflecting on past divisions of Christmas decorations during my divorce, I realized the impact it had on my children, like Kit’s attachment to Rudolph symbolizing stability and continuity regardless of where she spent Christmas.
This year’s tree decorating holds a new promise for me, as Kit’s joyful perspective eclipses any lingering sorrow associated with the ornaments. I eagerly anticipate seeing her tree come to life with our shared memories.