Senator Jani Iwamoto

The Christmas that sticks out in my mind is when my children were young. Of course it was cold outside, and my parents were with us. During those times, although they lived close by, they would sleep overnight so they could be with us when the kids woke up to see if Santa had come.

That year, my son was going back into his bedroom when he threw up. I went to clean it up and quickly felt the same symptoms. We were both so sick. What made that year so memorable and special was not that we were sick, but that I could hear my daughter, playing dolls and games with my parents. it was such a beautiful Christmas to just relax and spend focused and quality time together. I was not up to cooking a big meal and no one seemed to care - so we had scrambled eggs and the Portuguese sausage my husband brought back from Hawaii.

Fast forward to this year, which has been one of the craziest holiday seasons ever - leaving the Capitol and the accumulation of documents from my time in the Senate and on the County Council, saying goodbyes, trying to figure out what to give away, what to keep - even what to eat.

Since the pandemic, and because of many losses of dear loved ones, I have loved being more present, visiting with many who I don’t see often enough, and having gratitude for those that have come before us - this has been most wonderful and impactful to me. I feel blessed to have served in such a beautiful place, our Capitol, with colleagues and those behind the scenes who care so deeply for our beautiful state.

Aimee Winder Newton, Salt Lake County Council member, director of the Utah Office of Families

A few years ago, my son and I decided to be helpful by putting away our Christmas tree. Normally my very particular husband is the one to meticulously fold the limbs up and place it in the box. The following year when we got the tree out of the box, we noticed that the bottom third of the tree had its branches inverted - like an umbrella that has been turned inside out by the wind. Ooops!

We tried to repair the joints that were bent. We talked about simply replacing the tree with a new one. One year I industriously used zip ties to attach the lower branches to the upper ones to give it a hint of normalcy. Finally, we just left the bottom third in its new, distorted form and accepted it as is.

Interestingly, when you look at our tree from outside our house, you would never know anything is amiss. The bottom third sits below the level of the windowsill and from the road it looks like a fine and sturdy tree.

Over this Christmas season, I have contemplated the parable of the Newton Christmas tree. How many times do we look into the lives of other people from our street view and think everything looks perfect? We often have no idea about the challenges our neighbors and others are dealing with. We know nothing of the drooping branches in their lives.

To those who are on the inside of the home in this parable, I fear we are prone to an insecure mindset, at times, where we mistakenly believe that everyone else has a perfectly fine tree and ours is the only one that is deficient. We live in an age of relativism, constantly comparing ourselves to what others have, or what others look like, or what others do.

Some of our drooping branches are sickness and disease. Some of these will cause hardship, heartache, disability or financial strains. Some will result in death and leave families with empty and broken hearts. Some of our drooping branches are emotional challenges--failed relationships, estranged family or friends, depression or anxiety that leave us in a fog devoid of reason or safety in our own thoughts.

How glorious to know that the Savior knows the depths of our pains and struggles. He took upon himself the pain, sickness, sin and suffering of all mankind so that He could understand and empathize with each of us when those struggles come in our lives. He also paved the way for us to overcome all those challenges and weaknesses. With His help we can overcome our own drooping branches. May this Christmas season bless us with better understanding of our fellow humans, more grace for our own weaknesses, and a desire to receive the peace that Jesus Christ offers.

Amy Dott Harmer, Executive Director, Utah Refugee Connection

Several decades ago while I serving as missionary for my church, I waited patiently for the arrival of a Christmas box from home. December 20th came, December 22nd, still no box. I knew the holidays were busy for my parents. They owned a gift store and December was the busiest time of the year. The 23rd passed and still no box. All the missionaries around me had received boxes from home but still on the morning of the 24th nothing arrived. I convinced myself it was ok but inside I was disappointed. My mission clothes were getting old and my shoes needed replacing. My missionary companion at the time, who I lived with, could see my disappointment and indiscreetly opened her box from home. She kindly shared some of her treats and gifts.

Late the night of the 24th, when I had lost hope, there was a knock at the door and the postman with a box. It was for me from my family. As I ripped the package open in excitement, I saw stickers, bouncy balls, pencils and small toys. I was puzzled. As I dug a little deeper, I discovered a note in my mom’s handwriting. “Instead of giving YOU a Christmas, we thought we would give you a Christmas you could give away.” I wish I could say I loved the box of trinkets and the message but I was disappointed. A new shirt or shoes was what I wanted, not a box of small stickers and toys for others.

The next morning my companion and I set out to celebrate Christmas with the humble families that we taught and served in East Los Angeles. We loaded our pockets and bags with the stickers and carnival like toys my mom had sent. As we visited the humble apartments of the Latin Americans we served and taught, we shared the small gifts. To my surprise, the children loved the bouncy balls and stickers. For many, this was their gift for the day, as their parents struggled to make ends meet.

For the next couple of weeks we shared these simple toys that were now treasures to me. On a daily basis, when we entered humble, run down apartment complexes, the children would run to us and ask for stickers. They would play with us and introduce us to their families. We gained new friends and people to serve everywhere we went.

Little did I know that that year was a hard year for my parents. They were closing their beloved gift store that they had run for many years. They had put so much love and time into “The Dotted Line” but discovered that keeping it running was no longer financially viable for them. They had done their best that holiday season to keep things rolling but it was not enough to keep the store open.

This week as I packed up a Christmas missionary box for Sam, I felt my mom, who is now gone, reminding me what it’s all about. I cried as I loaded the small toys and trinkets into his box a taped it up. I hope he too will discover the true beauty and magic of this season.

Stan Summers, Box Elder County Commissioner

Most Christmases when growing up on a dairy farm consists of work and family. My mom made Christmas memories at every turn

A couple weeks before the holidays, Mom would start making cookies, candy, and banana bread, to go with homemade strawberry and raspberry jam, which would then all go into boxes, tied up with love.

Once the boxes were ready, we would all climb into the country squire station wagon - you know - the ones with real imitation wood paneling. My dad and mom were in the front, my sisters in the middle and then, facing the wrong way in the back, were me and my brother.

We were off like Saint Nick to deliver to Joe and Ethel Firth, Manuel Missrasi, Dave Thomas at the Cross X and others until there was just one box left. That box belonged to Uncle Gene Isaacson who lived up by our dry farm in the Bothwell.

Singing carols and laughing, we drove up the old dirt road to a lone house about 4 miles north from my grandparents house (where I live now). Gene's home was very small and in desperate need of a paint job. It was surrounded by a fence that couldn’t keep anything out, but it did keep Bob, Gene’s dog, in!

When we opened the gate, Gene cracked the door to say, "Geet down, Bob!" Bob the dog was jumping up and down, excited to see us, too. We filed into the house and waited for Gene and Bob to take their places - Gene in his chair and Bob at his feet. Gene's cigarettes filled the room and the cigarette butts lined up like soldiers on his TV tray, next to a box of cherry chocolates that looked like they were from his time serving in WWII.

We broke out in a carol which made him smile and a feeling of overwhelming gratitude filled the air. There might as well have been a manger in the corner because Christ was there with us as we exchanged boxes of goodies. We finished off the visit and headed out to the station wagon singing, "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."

This time, Gene followed us to the gate, waving goodbye. As I turned back, I saw tears running down his cheeks, going in and around his 5-day old beard and weathered skin and my heart broke As we headed down the pot-holed graveled road, not much was said. We could hear Bob barking at us as if to say come back

I don’t remember much of what I got for Christmas that year, but I do remember that feeling that our parents gave us of the spirit of gratitude and love for all. Most of all, I knew then and I know now, it’s not about worldly gifts. Christmas is about the gift of our Savior and our ability in the next life to find each other. I know that Gene, my family and a host of others will be at the gate to open it with tear-filled eyes. Merry Christmas.

Upcoming

On This Day In History

Wise Words

"God bless us, every one!"

—Tiny Tim

On the Punny Side

Who is the meanest reindeer in Santa's herd?

Olive.

You've heard the song.

"Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names."

– Advertise With Us –

Subscribers may receive special messages with information about new features, special offers, or public policy messages from clients and advertisers.