When you grow up in Winter Wonderland, the magic of winter can quickly lose its charm. Maybe snow in September and -20 on Thanksgiving Day has something to do with that. But all the cold and all the snow in all the winters of my childhood never the could quite freeze out the excitement of new snow on Christmas Day.
When Thanksgiving weekend was over, my brother would turn on the Christmas music. We would drag out the battered Christmas boxes and put up the lights on rails of the porch. We’d make hot chocolate and hot tea and bake some Christmas cookies and curl up around the fire and read stories on those never-ending Alaskan winter nights. And Christmas time meant that we could read favorite stories from the Christmas in My Heart collection.
In spite of the fact that I think there are at least 12 books in the series, we only ever had one of Joe L. Wheeler’s Christmas story books. We read it over and over, and had decided favorites. Some of the stories were hilarious. Others were thoughtful. Some just made you cry. But all of them were good, and all of them had lessons of peace and joy and holiday love woven into the words.
As the most book-addicted of my siblings, I naturally inherited most of the books from our growing up days. One of those books is our copy of Christmas in My Heart. With Thanksgiving wrapped up, and the twinkle of lights outside our windows I may have little hope of a white Christmas in Tennessee this year. But I have Christmas in My Heart, and a million memories of snowy, white childhood Christmases to go with it.
One day, I’ll own all the books in the series. Until then, on Christmas Eve, you’ll find Scott and I curled up in our own little home continuing the tradition of Christmas in My Heart with our own little family. Even with out the snow, it will be a white Christmas to me.