Even at 82, my mother spends months searching for the cutest, most unusual Christmas cards she can find. You always know when you see Posey’s handwriting on a December envelope—a happy smile is moments away.
And thus lie the roots of my commitment to the tradition, no doubt. No matter how busy I am, or how many late, late nights it requires, I hand address every one (in red or green ink~Mom again), write a note to those friends who are far away, and lovingly seal and Christmas-stamp each one.
I equally love receiving Christmas cards. Whether it’s a photo card that reminds me just how fast time is passing, or a beautiful illustration of the humble nativity, or a gorgeous graphic that makes me think I really should frame that one, I relish them all. I especially love holiday letters, now that I think of it, although I’ve never written one. Perhaps it is the storyteller in me that is fascinated to read of the goings-on in families near and far. How can it be that all our stories are so similar?
The mailbox, this weekend, was delightfully stuffed with holiday greetings. As I tore through the envelopes, this one filled my heart to overflowing.
A hand-painted card, on a tiny little canvas, from my friend and mentor-painter Kevin Smith.
What a glorious way to mark the coming of the Christ child.
30 Days of Joy