Nana's Last Home-cooked Christmas

Sharing Cousin Mindy's Christmas Remembrances

Nana's eyes light up brighter than any tree or ornament.

1996. This was Nana's very last Christmas in the comfort of her own home in Fairgrove, Missouri, with all of her loving family around to support her. There was a thin blanket of snow on the ground, the air had a wintry quality to it; no doubt this was Christmas.

At Nana's Christmas Day meal, she always made everyone's favorite dishes: a crockpot of baked beans, her homemade chicken dumpling stew, pumpkin and apple pie, fudge… My cousin Lonny parked himself by the baked beans and hovered. She home cooked everything, which meant a bit of elbow grease and a lot of love went into every plateful. There was always a strong link between her food and the love she gave.

This Christmas wasn't just about a meal though; this year had a special meaning about it. When it got dark outside, it came time to listen to her old Christmas albums and for the kids to unwrap their gifts. Seeing this always made Nana's eyes light up brighter than any tree or ornament.

When the family gathered round to take Christmas photos, something strange showed up in them. In each picture (taken by me) was a light mist that hovered around the person in it, almost clinging to their happy, cheerful auras. This was an especially odd occurrence, seeing as Nana was very in touch with her soul. This, in my eyes, proved a couple of things I had long thought about Nana. One being that she was, in fact, very spiritual. Nana always had her brothers and sisters around...either in flesh or spirit. I used to catch a glimpse of them around when my guard was down. Almost as if the mist in the pictures was an old friend and they were just chatting about days past. The other thing it proved was that no matter what was going on, what downfalls or uprisings come, that none of these things mattered to her as long as she could celebrate with her family on Christmas.

A Very Blessed Christmas,
Mindy Beall Fitch

Nissa-Nassu

In my work-in-progress children’s pioneer novel, “The Wormy Bean Winter,” six-year old Emmi tells two-year-old Sunni about Aunt Riika’s famous Nissa-Nassu (Finnish Christmas Piggy Cookies) that they always have at their aunts for Thanksgiving. This results in their saying the name both forward and backwards, "Nassu-Nissa...Nissa-Nassa," as well as much noisy “oinking” and even noisier giggling!

Jana attempted to nurture her Finnish heritage by making Piggy Cookies for Christmas.

In the photo they did look “piggy.” (Messy like pigs anyway!), due to coloring the frosting with some seedy raspberry jelly or something to make them pink!  I’m sure they were delicious. And I admire her spirit in fostering our Finnish traditions.

Happy Holidays!

Lorna Kerin Beall

Note from Jana: Inspired by my mom's story, I decided to try my hand at Finnish Piggy Cookies. Dan combined the Finnish tradition of baking ginger cookies with his own love of local Tohono O'odham heritage ingredients by making yummy mesquite-ginger cookies. Unfortunately, the piggy shape and ginger-mesquite taste was covered by the raspberry frosting. I didn't have a pig cookie cutter so I cut out circles and sculpted piggy ears, snout, legs and tail with my fingers. I made another cookie of a piggy face with a raised snout. They sorta looked like pigs until I put the speckled pink frosting on them. I tried making eyes with little dollops of white icing and a shiny round sprinkle. When I applied black eye lasses on it, Dan's mom exclaimed, "Oh! It's a face!" 

Little Miracles

by Lorna Kerin Beall 

In past years one of my favorite things to do was to write a Christmas poem or story, some that have been graciously published. One of my favorites was published in The Lutheran Witness a couple of years ago. It was about my little mentally challenged Sunday school student, Theresa, who tore everything she touched. She tore not only her lesson paper but even the paper on her crayons causing many supposedly black puppy dogs or cows to turn out a surprising purple. At snack time Theresa even tore her paper cup, drizzling colorful (and sticky!) Kool Aid everywhere.

We were doing the Christmas story in flannel graph and each child was to put a beautiful and beloved pastel character on the flannel board. I couldn't help but wonder what I’d do about Theresa. Before long however, I was caught up in this lesson of God’s love, and in the joy of the children as they slapped each picture up with exuberance. But all too soon we were to the most wonderful picture of all, the baby Jesus – and to the last child – Theresa.

I held the fragile picture of the little pink Baby in my hand, imagining the children’s hurt cries if Theresa should tear it. Before I could change my mind, I thrust it towards her. Slowly, wide-eyed with wonder, Theresa took the picture of the Baby. She gently touched Him with her tiny finger. Then she began fingering the edges of the soft velour picture. I knew what would come next: the tearing.

But Theresa drew the baby Jesus to her lips and kissed Him. Then she patted Him gently in place on the flannel-board. I knew I’d witnessed a little Christmas miracle. And since then, I've often been inspired by some child’s simple faith. Like last year during our church Candlelight Service. When the first candles were lit a tiny 2-year-old boy in the congregation burst out singing, “Happy birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday Dear Jesus, Happy Birthday to you.”

This Christmastime may we join him, and other sweet children, in singing or saying: “Happy Birthday, Jesus!