On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were dividing four boxes of tree ornaments. Kit, now living independently, wanted to set up her own Christmas tree. Unpacking the decorations brought back memories of loss and grief for children who were no longer part of our holiday celebrations.
Over eight years, our family grew and shrank with 23 foster children. Most placements were temporary, and our two children came to us through adoption while we were still fostering. I was surprised to see that Kit remembered the stories behind each homemade ornament, even for those she had never met. Her holiday memories differed from mine, which was a shock.
As I opened a box, I found a tree topper given to my husband and me on our first Christmas together. The iridescent angel had a crack between its wings and body, held together by Krazy Glue. Passing it to Kit, unsure if she would want it due to its fragile state, her eyes sparkled under her festive reindeer hat. She recalled how she always wanted to be the one to place the angel on top of the tree, reminiscing about her height struggles.
Another tin revealed a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament made by an eight-year-old boy we fostered. Constructed from foam blocks and pipe cleaners at a Christmas party, it stirred up feelings of grief and anger as we had lost contact with him after unsuccessful legal attempts for him to become a permanent ward.
Kit noticed my change in mood and took the Santa decoration, reminiscing about how I always placed it near the bottom of the tree for her to play with. She appreciated the flames on the back of the sleigh, connecting it to a movie scene.
Creating inclusive holiday traditions for our foster children was vital. Our family held Christmas dinners on dates surrounding Christmas Day to ensure the children could spend time with their families without feeling left out. We started a tradition of giving each child unique ornaments, allowing them to keep it as a memento when they left our home, like how the Santa and reindeer ornament crafted by our foster son stayed with me.
Finding a reindeer ornament made of pompoms, ribbon, googly eyes, and pipe cleaners, I remembered my son’s nickname for them. Dividing Christmas ornaments had been a familiar task for me, even two decades ago during a previous split.
Kit’s reflection on the ornaments’ significance surprised me, showing how she had internalized important lessons from our past. Decorating the tree this year will be different, with Kit’s positive perspective overshadowing any lingering sadness I associated with each ornament. I look forward to seeing her tree come to life.