North Woods Meets Prairies

Crimson red, Gerber Daisies cut from my garden in December.

The north woods 

and once-not-too-long-ago-Norwegian Minnesotans 

gave me life 

and shaped my traditions. 

Steeped in opening gifts Christmas eve, saying “Come Lord Jesus” grace, and dressing ‘in the bird’; this is what I knew.

Then choices, 

years, 

and an unfolding life 

took me due south 

where living takes place on the spacious grassland prairies of Texas. In the early years of living here it never felt like a good ‘fit’. I mean no disrespect to the land with its stunning sunsets and mild winters or to its legendary Lone Star history. But these blue eyes never became accustomed to the strength of its sun and my nature yearns for a crisp fall that arrives in September, open windows all summer, and cool grass with no chance of red ants. The possibility of Gerber Daisies and Begonias still blooming happily in mid-December significantly messed with my emotional transition to holiday cheer.

But then you see, as time went on, 

I came to know this deeply rooted Texas man. 

Then there was a Christmas when I was introduced to his deeply rooted Texas family. They welcomed me in a warm family way. Their traditions of laughter in the kitchen and worship in the sanctuary were dearly familiar and had a direct relationship to this man's impeccable character and kind heart. In one crystal clear, freeze-frame, moment-in-time during that Christmas I knew that here was a place, a family, and a man that I could call home. 

Winter on the southern prairie, like this year,

can mean daisies and begonias are still in bloom. 

That event still messes with my preferred notions of Christmas. 

Never the less, for 15 years this winter, the Texas man and I have made our home here. 
Our traditions found common ground. 

Truly, I prefer cornbread dressing. 

The Texas man knows the “Come Lord Jesus” grace. 

And, thankfully opening gifts Christmas eve was and remains, a shared family tradition. 


Linking with Emily for Tuesdays Unwrapped.