The promise of the bells

Way back in 1975, my mother was out on her regular shopping circuit and bought the first edition of a Reed and Barton silver Holly Bell Christmas ornament. It was a fortuitous find and the beginning of an annual holiday ritual. In early December over all 33 years of her life that followed, Margaret made the same pilgrimage to the downtown jewelry store for each new version. In her later days, my mother was not as nimble as she once was, so she called ahead to the store and someone would come out to the curb and present the year's new ornament through the car window. 

I don't recall how or when her special collection changed hands but, somewhere along the way, all these silver decorations migrated to me. Margaret was so on top of this annual tradition that when she died in August, 2008, she was way ahead of the game with the year's incarnation already in place--with yellow Post-It note bearing her neat handwriting on the box: “2008 Holly Bell - Ellen”. She was forever gleeful and proud with each year's acquisition, so my breaking the chain was out of the question. 

It is hard to believe that Christmas 2018 marked the arrival of the 43^rd edition of the Holly Bell that I always welcome and treasure. All 43 bells are the same shiny silver with a red satin ribbon, but each one has slight differences in the raised holly design that makes it unique to all the others. Recently, I worked out in my mind that the subtle distinctions do a fine job reflecting the variations that life's journey offers up across the years they commemorate. 

Bells covering big ones always jump out: the year in which Delta opened the doors of the world for me, the super-special years when William and Annabelle were born, the year we left life and friends in Atlanta, moving to Tennessee, the years when the children left for college--one of which coincides with the 2016 at-long-last landing in our very own home . . . I could go on and on and on. And it wouldn't be that difficult to come up with someone or something special associated with each of the other 37. 

The newest Holly Bell's arrival every December is a sweet and familiar rite, always serving up an invitation to reflect on the preceding 11 months, and to contemplate tying a bow on the year that has mostly finished. Just like all the others before it, the 2018 bell found a place in significance, this time mirroring a period of both loss and gain, a year that closes in quite a different manner from how it began.

But in recent months, there has been one ever-present thought living in my head. Time and life bring change that I sometimes don't understand or like, often the result of my own messing up, or just because what I think I really want isn't exactly found in the middle of God's big plan. However, I have glimpsed newfound promise and joy in the still-exciting offerings of tomorrow, where there live more opportunities to start over and to get things right-er. It really is the greatest gift of all, and a rich one for which I am exceptionally thankful. 

No one would be more surprised about my finding deep meaning in really pretty but fairly commonplace silver Holly Bells than she who started it all a long time ago. I am so grateful for a chance to see a reflection of my life, my children, experiences, and people and places I love in that shiny silver, along with a lovely glimpse of tomorrow's rich promise. 

So here's to a new year filled with significance and possibilities, one that will someday be remembered so well upon reflection in a pretty design brought by a silver holly bell. 

Ellen