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Mother embodied spirit of the holidays By Sharon Johnson Dec 18, 2022 12:30 AM A A When my mother was alive, just looking at her put you in the Christmas spirit. In her ruffled, red apron, she was everyone’s vision of the holiday — rosy, cherubic cheeks, twinkling eyes, a beckoning smile. Christmas always felt like it belonged to her. My grandfather was a Lutheran pastor, and Mom spent her growing-up years in a front-row church pew, listening to her father preach well-delivered sermons. Her own mother died when she was 3 years old, and from an early age she recognized the importance of family and faith. She had an embedded belief in God and a “do-what’s-right” philosophy of life, which she passed down to her three children. My siblings and I have used her gifts in different ways. My sister married a caring Jewish man and embraced his faith as hers — as do their four children. My brother doesn’t attend church regularly, but he has an enduring sense of life’s truths and a generous heart. When his sons were young, he and his wife traveled across the country to have their boys baptized in my parents’ church. My brother’s youngest son was given the biblical name my mother always cherished: Luke. At age 13, attending his grandmother’s memorial service, Luke read her favorite prayer — in Norwegian. When we were young, my family honored Norwegian holiday traditions. The evening was anchored in mother’s reading of carefully selected Bible passages. That night, we indulged in traditional Norse foods, including Mother’s ever-favored lutefisk which, for the uninitiated, is cod soaked in lye. It was always, thankfully, accompanied by copious amounts of melted butter. When Mother was with us, there would definitely be lefse, rolled up with sugar and butter and large plastic containers of krumkake — crispy, sugary Scandinavian treats. Just a little pickled herring. Each Christmas Eve as we were growing up, my mother made a creamy, rich rice pudding in which she placed one whole almond. The bowl repeatedly was passed around the table, and it was family legend that the person who dipped out a spoonful of pudding containing the almond would have good fortune for the entire year. The first year I found the almond, I met the love of my life and married him. The last year of her life, at age 93 my mother got that almond. And I recall her saying, with thoughtful delight, “My ... I wonder what’s in store for me?” My mother’s philosophy of living and dying was utterly uncomplicated. She did both well, embracing each day as if it were a gift. Her approach centered on the golden rules of “loving thy neighbor as thyself” and “doing onto others as you would have them do unto you.” Those sentiments often were found in the hundreds of handwritten Christmas cards she sent out each year to friends and family, reminding them in her final year of holiday card-giving to “do all the good you can, for all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” And it shall be so. Sharon Johnson is a retired educator. Reach her at [email protected]