The Ghost of Christmas Past

Sometimes a moment in time can be permentally etched on the mind and heart of a child. It can be a good moment but very often it is the opposite. That moment can alter the way they view other people and can alter their thinking or feeling or acting. Two months after my fourth birthday I learned to hate.

My parents had just separated. My mother, my brother, my sister and I moved in with my grandparents and my great grandmother. Our cat escaped from the car on the way to Nanny's house never to be seen again. We had to give our beloved dog Lobo, a beautiful white shepherd, to our aunt.Nanny made a game of me sleeping in the crib. We both knew I was far too big for that , and my brother and sister shared a bed.
I don't remember exactly when we moved in but we had not been there long when the Christmas season arrived. I could cry now thinking of how very hard that Christmas must have been for my mom. When she gave my father the choice, he choose the other woman. So there she was with three little kids, no car....not even a driver's license, no job, no home and I imagine it must have seemed like no Christmas. As a four year old I only knew that I missed my dog, my cat and my Daddy and that Mommy was very sad.
One afternoon my great grandmother was watching us children. We were all in the kitchen and I was allowed to stand on a chair as I sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on my buttered toast. I was enjoying this new thing that my great grandmother was teaching me .The door bell rand and I jumped off the chair to see who it was. I reached the door first and the room exploded with shrieks of joy as we saw through the glass panelled door that Daddy was there!In a split second the glee was drowned out by the high pitched screams of my great grandmother. I don't recall her exact words but they were full of anger and rage. As we were pulling the door open to get to my Daddy she was pushing it closed and telling him never to come back. We were all crying now and calling out to our "Daddy!"Just before the door snapped shut my father was able to pass a brown paper bag through the opening.
I find myself crying as I write this so deep and powerful was the pain and fear and love and hate that I knew at that moment.
We watched my father descend the three porch steps and disappear down the street. We opened the bag and pulled out three Santa Claus mugs. You've seen the kind. The handle is formed by Santa's hat. You would think that after 49 years they would stop making them. They don't. And every year at this time that brief moment comes back clear, and strong and alive. I never loved my great grand mother after that. I never even liked her. I hated her. Now that I am grown and can better understand why she was so passionate in her anger but I still can not find any affection for her memory.
I know this is not a happy little Christmas blog. But to me it is an important lesson. We adults have the ability to teach the children in our lives so many things. Most of what they learn is caught and not simply taught. Kids are forgiving for the most part but sometimes if we are not careful we will teach them things that we never indented for them to learn. The Bible says to "be angry but sin not". How we act, even in justified anger will touch the lives of the children around us.
They are watching and they will remember...