The Christmas Ornament That Started It All

There it was.

A little tarnished.

A little forlorn.

An ornament with bent corners tied with a gold ribbon that had fallen on hard times. I found it the other day at the bottom of a Christmas tote, tucked in amongst random pieces of greenery and four generations of Christmas glitter.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw it.

They say that every ornament has a story.

Me?

I think ornament stories are only for the good ones. The ornaments from long ago Christmases and long ago celebrations and long ago moments in time—those are the ones with the really good tales to tell.

And this ornament tale?

It’s one that makes my heart sad and happy (and embarassed) all at the same time.

Here’s the story of the Christmas ornament that started it all.

A long time ago in a land far away, I was about to get married to the cutest pair of brown twinkling eyes on the planet.

It was a Christmas wedding.

Taking place right after Christmas.

December 30 to be exact.

Months and months of planning had gone into the wedding. There were green taffeta bridesmaids’ dresses and red rose floral bouquets and a white carpet runner and dozens of candles and rows and rows of fresh-smelling pine Christmas trees. I was about to walk down the aisle wearing my grandmother’s wedding dress with a veil and a train the size of Texas with a monogrammed W at the end of it.

I couldn’t wait.

The weeks leading up to the wedding were full of shopping and taste testing and dress alterations and finding the perfect shoes…

…and the much-anticipated wedding shower.

A couple of my mother’s friends were getting together (remember the Babes that I told you about a couple of weeks ago) to host a couple’s wedding shower for us.

Because we were getting married right after Christmas, someone had the amazingly clever idea to make it a Christmas ornament shower.

Brilliant, right?

Christmas and a wedding and ornaments, and hot chocolate all in one.

So my future husband and I made a list of other couples that we wanted to invite. The list was made up of a dozen or so of our friends. Invitations went out with instructions to bring an ornament to the shower to help us start our life and our Christmas tree together.

Ornaments + friends + punch + cookies.

It was going to be the perfect Christmas event.

The day of the shower arrived, and we couldn’t contain our excitement.

My future husband and I wore coordinating Christmas outfits and arrived 30 minutes early to help the hostesses set out the chips and dip and fluff the Christmas tree.

And then we sat around and watched the clock and made small talk and sat in the living room and waited for the guests to arrive.

Except.

Except they never did.

Nope.

No one came to our shower.

Nobody.

Not even one single solitary guest.

Later, all my friends called and told me different reasons why they couldn’t come, and apologized and explained it all. I listened and understood.

But at that shower?

In that moment, sitting on that couch with my future husband awkwardly staring at the Christmas tree and the chips and the dip and the ceiling and my hands and anywhere and everywhere and trying to avoid the hostesses’ eyes staring at us with sympathy….

….it was all so sad.

I felt less than.

I felt small.

I felt like this was LITERALLY the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

We tried to make the best of it.

We tried to act like we didn’t care.

Truly.

We took 10 minutes to open the one shower present from our hostesses. We oohed and ahhed over the wrapping and the ribbon, and the tag. When we finally opened the gift, we exclaimed as if it had arrived from the Smithsonian Institution. The ornament the hostesses gave us? It was two cherubs engraved with our names.

And then?

I laughed and ate some chips and gripped my almost husband’s hand like it was a lifeline and tried to pretend like it wasn’t any big deal and that it didn’t really bother me.

But it did.