By Kay Smart – Wetaskiwin, Alta.
In early December 1966, I found a 1964 issue of Family Circle magazine that showed two pages of patterns for Christmas Tree ornaments. They were made from felt and sequins. My young children were entranced by the pictures so I decided to make some decorations for our tree.
I bought some scraps of felt and sequins and sewed 10 colourful little objects. There were three birds – white, yellow, and red; three flowers – yellow, pink, and red; two purple balloons, and a green butterfly.
When it was time to decorate the Christmas tree, I had two excited little helpers. I persuaded them to let me start with the silver garlands and some of the top ornaments. They could choose where to hang the felt objects.
Neil, four years old, hopped up and down as he declared his favourite was a little red bird with purple sequin wings. He hung it on a prominent low branch, right in the front. Six-year-old Barbara thoughtfully selected the green butterfly with its silver sequin wings as her favourite, hanging it slightly to the right.
We had our family ritual
We’d asked the children not to touch the tree or its decorations again, however, I noticed the green butterfly kept flitting around to other branches of the tree. Nothing else was being disturbed, so I didn’t say anything to Barbara.
On Christmas Eve, we had our usual family ritual. My husband read the story of the birth of Jesus as the children cuddled beside him in his big chair. We hung the stockings on the mantle ready for the coming of Santa Claus.
Neil excitedly clamoured for the cookies and milk to leave for Santa. After he’d sampled some, the plate and glass were placed on the nearby coffee table.
Barbara, looking very thoughtful, walked over to the tree, and removed the green butterfly. Cradling it lovingly in her hands, she gently placed it on the table beside the cookies. She had the most beautiful, loving smile on her dear little face as she said, “I think Santa would like one of our cookies, but I want to give him the butterfly because he is always so good to us.”
We had to pretend
Tears came to my eyes at the love and generosity shown by our little girl. Now what was I going to do with the green butterfly? I had to pretend Santa had taken it. My husband suggested I hide it that evening in the bottom of my locked cedar chest.
On Christmas morning, our very excited little daughter, followed by her brother, woke us up. “Santa was here,” she exclaimed, “and he took my green butterfly!” Even with the delight of all the gifts, that was the highlight of her Christmas.
Several years later, when Barbara was in her teens, I wrapped the butterfly in colourful paper and returned it to her at Christmastime. We all laughed when we told her the story.
