Something Old, Something New

Perhaps you will have a hard time believing this, but I have never roasted a turkey for a family dinner, neither for Christmas nor for Thanksgiving, until this year. We spent many years in Africa where there were no turkeys available, and we had free-range chickens for our festive dinners. When we returned to Canada we continued this tradition. We found chicken to be juicier and more flavorful. 

This Christmas, however, we had turkey. The reason for this change of family tradition was that one of my sisters received a free turkey for making a large purchase at a local grocery. She asked me if I wanted it since they already had turkey for Thanksgiving. I accepted it with thanks. The bird turned out to be quite delicious and we had enough left over to make a turkey noodle soup to share with friends over the holidays. 

That is my story about something new I did this Christmas. 
Now let me tell you about something old, which I consider to be my favorite Christmas present. It came unexpectedly and was actually regifted to me.

When we moved from Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario to Winnipeg almost nine years ago, one of my biggest tasks was to go through all the books we had accumulated over the years and reduce their number. This was difficult for me, but I knew we simply owned too many. I managed to cull quite a few but we're still left with a good-sized library.

Among my books I found a selection of German titles I received from my grandmother for Christmas when I was a preteen. I had begun my schooling in German and became an avid reader as soon as I knew the alphabet. We emigrated to Canada when I was nine and I soon began to read English books. My grandmother knew that I would always be happy to receive a book as a Christmas present. She did not want me to forget the German language, so she supplied me with German books which she ordered directly from Germany. To me it did not matter whether I was reading English or German; I wasn't even aware which language I was reading!

When I looked through our books before we moved to Winnipeg, I once again felt that tug of home. The books took me back to Christmases past. I noticed there was a book missing from my collection. It was probably a favorite of mine, and I wondered what had happened to it. I could still recall the story and how much I enjoyed reading it. I even remembered the title: Luthers Singerlein ("Luther's Little Singer") and I felt sad that this book wasn't there. It was probably the first historical novel I ever read and one of the best, written especially for children. Its story takes place during the time of Martin Luther and the central character is a young girl who loves to sing and play her violin. She is not validated for her gifts because, according to her aunt who raises her, these are not suitable for a young girl who should be working on her home-making skills. Also, her hair is black and curly, not typical of a German girl. Martin Luther, who lives in the same city (Wittenberg) and notices her musical ability when he visits her school, affirms and validates her gifts. 

When I learned English I read Anne of Green Gables, another story about a girl who doesn't really meet the expectations of the people she lives with. The theme of this book is quite similar to that of the German book my grandmother gave me. The characters in both these books thrive when someone appreciates them for who they are and convinces their loved ones to do the same.

Recently my sister went through some boxes my parents had left in their garage. Several of them contained books, and she gave them to me to sort and dispose of. To my surprise and delight, when I opened one of the cartons, I discovered the book I had been missing all these years. The next Sunday afternoon I took time to read it again, and I must say I enjoyed it as much as I did when I was a child! I identified with the main character because I too had gifts that were not "productive" in the eyes of my Mennonite mother. She wanted a daughter who could stitch and sew and be her right hand in the house, taking care of the younger siblings. I just wanted to read and play with words. 

As an adult taking university courses, I finally felt validated for my love of reading and writing. One day, in a telephone conversation with my mother, I told her that I actually got paid for reading books and writing about them! She said she was proud of me because I had raised a family as well as pursued a career. In her eyes, I had gone about it the right way, by having my family first. I valued and appreciated my mother's words of affirmation (even though I didn't necessarily agree with her assessment about the order in which the events in my life took place.) Her words mitigated the childhood message I had internalized that the gifts I had been given were of less value than others. However, the fact that I can put a delicious turkey meal on the table as well as read a good book would make my mother happy. We won't talk about my sewing skills.