Miracle Ball

I love decorating the Christmas tree. I can’t think of a place where the joining of our life stories is as clear, except maybe in our storage room. But who wants to look at that mess? Not me.

We have accumulated our ornaments over the years. They are a reminder of the adventures we’ve had and the people who were important to us along the way. Sometimes they draw up happy memories and sometimes old grief. Like everyone, our lives are bittersweet.

With the early slide into winter this year, Kim was gracious enough to grumble only a little when I put the tree up before Thanksgiving. While pulling the totes out of the attic, I found an old box of glass ornaments that I had never noticed before among Kim’s things. One purple ball was carefully labeled “Miracle Ball.” I asked Kim what that was about.

“Well,” she said with a chuckle, “it happened a long time ago. A whole box of glass ornaments broke but somehow that one survived.”

“Kind of like us,” I said.

And I hung the miracle ball in the center of the tree.