A Family Treasure That Shines Every December

Every Christmas season begins the same way for me. Before the wreaths, before the garland, and even before the tree makes its way into place, there is one thing I always reach for first from the attic. It is small and softly glowing, a little worn from years gone by, but it carries more meaning than anything else I unpack during the holidays. It is my grandmother Wilborn’s angel.

This little angel first belonged to her more than fifty years ago. Her tiny lights, her gentle smile, and her soft orange hair have watched over many Christmases. She began her life as a tree topper, shining above the celebrations of my grandmother’s home. 

She is simple, a little fragile, and absolutely priceless to me.

Before my grandmother passed away, the angel was passed on to my mom. And years later, when Dawn and I got married and started our own home, my mom passed it down to me. 

My grandmother never got to meet Dawn. She passed away shortly before we started dating, so she was not there to see our wedding day or the family we would eventually build together. But in many ways, my wife Dawn and our twin daughters feel like they know her. They have heard every story I have shared through the years, every memory of holidays at her house, every small detail of what made her so special. The angel has become meaningful to them because it has always been meaningful to me. 

When they look at it each Christmas, they see more than an ornament. They see the woman whose love helped shape the man I became.

Anyone who has ever stepped into our home during Christmastime knows this angel holds a place of honor. She is always the first decoration I set out each year. Even if nothing else is in place yet, the angel always finds her spot. That warm, familiar glow brings me comfort that words can’t quite capture. It takes me back to a time when Christmas meant my grandmother’s voice, the smell of her kitchen, our big wonderful family celebrating the holidays, and the feeling of being wrapped in a kind of love that only a grandmother can give.

It amazes me that something so small can carry so much. A simple ornament with tiny lights has become a bridge connecting generations. It keeps my grandmother close. It keeps her stories alive. And it keeps her memory shining in the hearts of my wife and daughters, even though they never had the chance to meet her.

One day, I will pass this angel down to one of my girls. I hope that when she unpacks it in her own home, she feels the same warmth I have always felt. I hope it reminds her of her great-grandmother, and of all the stories I shared through the years. And I hope it shows her that family traditions, even the smallest ones, can carry love forward in the most powerful way.

For now, the angel stays right where she has always been, lighting the way into another Christmas season. And as long as she keeps glowing, a piece of my grandmother is still here with us.

In the end, this little angel reminds me that the most meaningful parts of Christmas are not the decorations or the gifts, but the love we carry forward from one generation to the next. I hope you have something in your home that brings you the same kind of comfort and connection, something that reminds you of where you come from and who helped shape your story. May this season fill your heart with those gentle memories and the kind of peace that lasts long after the lights fade.