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Blue seems to be a popular color so don't miss the blue shared with Sally today.
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THIS MEMORY IS HAPPY AND SAD My blue today is our Christmas stockings handmade by our daughter-in-law. Time and love went into these stockings, and they are very special to me. This photo does not show the extent of the hand sewn detail that went into these stockings.
Our daughter-in-law passed away at age 42. Every year these stockings brings her memory into our hearts so vividly. She once said, "A Christmas gift must be hand made to show how much love you have for the person who receives your gift."She made our gifts each year.
A Christmas poem that I love.
Hang Up Your Stocking
Madge Morris Wagner
Laugh, little bright-eyes, hang up your stocking;
Don’t count the days any more;
Old Santa Claus will soon be knocking,
Knocking,
Knocking at the door.
Through the key-hole slyly peeping,
Down the chimney careful creeping,
When the little folks are sleeping,
Comes he with his pack of presents.
Such a grin! but then so pleasant
You would never think to fear him;
And you can not, must not hear him.
He’s so particular, you know,
He’d just pick up his traps and go
If but one little eye should peep
That he thought was fast asleep.
Searching broomstick, nails, and shelf,
Till he finds the little stocking—
Softly lest you hear his knocking—
Smiling, chuckling to himself,
He fills it from his Christmas store,
And out he slips to hunt for more.
Then laugh, little bright-eyes, and hang up your stocking;
Don’t count the days any more;
Old Santa Claus will soon be knocking,
Knocking, knocking, knocking, at the door.
Don’t count the days any more;
Old Santa Claus will soon be knocking,
Knocking,
Knocking at the door.
Through the key-hole slyly peeping,
Down the chimney careful creeping,
When the little folks are sleeping,
Comes he with his pack of presents.
Such a grin! but then so pleasant
You would never think to fear him;
And you can not, must not hear him.
He’s so particular, you know,
He’d just pick up his traps and go
If but one little eye should peep
That he thought was fast asleep.
Searching broomstick, nails, and shelf,
Till he finds the little stocking—
Softly lest you hear his knocking—
Smiling, chuckling to himself,
He fills it from his Christmas store,
And out he slips to hunt for more.
Then laugh, little bright-eyes, and hang up your stocking;
Don’t count the days any more;
Old Santa Claus will soon be knocking,
Knocking, knocking, knocking, at the door.
Merry Christmas Wishes
Blessings and love,
Jeanne
Hi Jeanne,
How fortunate you and Bill are to have had such a special relationship with your daughter-in-law. What a treat those stockings are!
Happy Blue Monday and Merry Christmas!
Posted by: Sally | December 22, 2014 at 09:22 AM
A very touching post. Nothing takes the place that someone took the time to personally make. A true treasure.
Posted by: LaVoice | December 22, 2014 at 10:13 AM
Oh, Sweetpea! What a sad and fond memory---I can feel the loss in your words, and your joy at the glorious years you had with such a sweet, caring person. Those are TRUE TREASURES.
love to you all this cold Monday---yesterday was absolutely gorgeous, with sunshine and lots of activity going on---splendid just-before-Christmas Sunday.
r
Posted by: rachel | December 22, 2014 at 10:46 AM
Oh they are beautiful. I am so sorry you lost her so young, she sounds like a super sweet person.
Posted by: Joy | December 22, 2014 at 06:37 PM
So cute, knocking, knocking, knocking. The stockings are lovely.
Posted by: Linda Kay | December 22, 2014 at 08:07 PM
Bitter sweet memory for you and your husband, I'm sure. She really did a wonderful job. Never heard that poem before but it is darling.
Ann
Posted by: Ann | December 22, 2014 at 08:09 PM