Sunday, December 21, 2014


It was the Sunday before Christmas 1934, and Ina Dobson sat before the cheery fire in her living room reading the December issue of Christian Herald, laying the magazine down from time to time to reflect on a day well-spent. Ina had been nervous about this holiday season. Her youngest child, Shirley, was working in Idaho Falls and wouldn’t be home for Christmas. This was the first Christmas since 1892 when Pearl was a wee babe that she had spent without at least one of her children with her. She missed them all at Christmas but especially Shirley since they had planned so many Christmas celebrations together. Even so, Ina had to admit to herself that she was having a lovely holiday.  
She had gotten her letters, cards, and boxes off in good season and had plenty of time this last week to make a dress for her niece, Ruth (Bertha’s daughter). Bertha had told her not to try to do it before Christmas, but Ina had wanted to. The dress and collar would be her gifts to Ruth. And Ruth came to the house different days and did up Ina’s work so she would have more daylight for sewing. One day Ruth had even done her washing besides, and oh, it had been wonderful to sew instead of wash. Ruth was such a good worker and willing to help.

And today, Ruth and her sister Doris had come down and the three of them had decorated the house with boughs and trimmed the tree. They had all three enjoyed it. After a mid-afternoon dinner, as daylight faded, Ruth and Doris walked back home, carrying their box of gifts all wrapped for their tree, and Ruth carrying her dress, nicely pressed and collar attached, in a suit box, not to be opened till Christmas A.M.

Yes, it was a good day. KW

Monday, Dec. 21, 1896 -- on this date at Gilbert:
Julian and Junius Dobson, Gene Patchen, Ben and Frank Dickson, Add Burns, Charles Gurnsey, and Arthur Miuller helped me roll up my house. The weather was fair -- warm like spring.
~M. L. Dickson

1 comment:

Chris said...

We've had several Christmases with just the two of us, and (possibly because we knew it wasn't going to become a yearly occurrence) we, like Ina, admitted it was a lovely holiday. Sometimes quiet, contemplative days, in part spent remembering joyous times of the past, are gifts in themselves.