It's a Family Tradition

Everyone has their holiday traditions. I don't care whether it's Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa; everyone has some sort of tradition that has been passed down in their families for generations. The holidays are here, and this year will be a different and difficult one for me. My parents have separated after 30 years of marriage. My fiance is serving nine months in a correctional facility two and a half hours away for not minding his p's and q's on a case from a few years back. I'm still determined to keep our traditions alive and going. Growing up, we've always had three things that you could count on come Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we got to open one gift. More often than not, it was pajamas, but nevertheless, it was a gift that we got to open "before Christmas"! Not to mention the fact that very little surpasses the delicious joy of new pajamas. Then, on Christmas morning, we'd dig through our stockings and open gifts. There's always one gift under the tree that everyone got. And there was no mistaking it for anything else. It rattled a certain way. It was just a specific shape and size. Queen Anne's chocolate covered cherries is what my Dad brought to the party as a tradition. Every single person got a box of chocolate covered cherries for Christmas! Mom was never really a fan, so she either gave hers to dad, or my brother and I would decide who got it. 

           

Once gifts and cleanup was done, and the food was cooking, on came the TV. I'm not sure where you're from, but I know in our home. A Christmas Story (leg lamp, "you'll shoot your eye out", "oh fudge") airs back to back, all day, on Christmas. We would catch bits and pieces of it as we made our way around the house enjoying our new things, grazing on the snack stuff while mom cooked a ham and the trimmings to go with it, and finally getting showered and dressed before any of the relatives showed up. My fiance's family tradition is one of my favorites, simply because of how it came about. His dad is an Army veteran. He finally retired around a year ago after serving for the majority of his adult life. When Derek (fiance) and his sisters Michele and Cassie were little, James (Derek's father) was active duty, and was set to deploy at any moment. It was Christmas. The kids were on a pallet in

the floor watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation", and James and Hope (Derek's mother) were in their recliners. The phone rang. All James said was, "Okay". He'd gotten his phone call, and it was time to go. It was late. He was already packed. There was nothing more for him to do but head out to do his duty as an American soldier! Every year since then, they make it a point to watch Christmas Vacation every Christmas. I was blessed enough to be included in this part of their family history, and I absolutely love it.

            Since I've grown, and have become more interested in the family get-togethers and such, I've come up with some traditions myself. Mandi and I have begun one of our own. Usually a week or two before Christmas, we get the kids together, and we bake some sort of holiday treat. It may be cookies, it may be cupcakes, but we bake. Prior to this night, we usually raid the Dollar Tree and get crafting supplies. We get the kids new pajamas, and we make homemade ornaments for the Christmas trees. The kids usually make one for our trees, and then one for the grandparent's trees, or the other parent. We watch Christmas movies until the kids can barely keep their eyes open. 

 I plan to start and keep as many new traditions during my time on this earth. Moreover, I'd love to hear some traditions you all have in your families!!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukka, Happy Kwanzaa, to all who dare to read my blog! God bless us, every one! 

My Thriller Thursday Story!!!!

Here in central Arkansas, we have a local radio station--Alice 107.7. Every Thursday in October, they do something called Thriller Thursday, where people call and email in their paranormal experiences. At the end of every Thriller Thursday segment, the talk show hosts decide which was the best of all the stories for that day, and they make the announcement and give prizes. I've been an avid listener since this all began some 10+ years ago. Everyone who knows me knows not to disturb me between the hours of 6-10am on Thursdays in October. I've either got my stereo cranked up, my computer going, and/or my earbuds in. I've submitted a few stories over the years. This week, however, my story won! You'd have thought I won the powerball millions! I didn't even know until Mandi texted me freaking out, which was immediately followed by a tag on facebook by an out of state friend congratulating me on my win, and then an email from the radio station confirming and asking which of the prizes I'd like.
I thought I'd share my story on here with you guys, and see what you think! I'm pretty tickled that I won. The story isn't the most pleasant, but it WILL give you chills. Enjoy!

  My paranormal group was small, but we always managed to find some good places to go, and we never really had any problems as far as being physically harrassed by anything. One night, we got the itch to go on an outing, and decided to hit up an old favorite. It was a cemetery, but we always got some of the best EVP and photo evidence there! There was maybe 6-7 of us, and we headed out. We always made sure to bring along a guy (people are crazy, and it’s not always a ghost looking to reach out and grab you), and tonight was no exception.

  Once we arrived at the cemetery, we decided to break up into teams. You’ll understand why, when my story is finished, but for the sake of parties involved, I’m going to change my teammate’s name. We’ll call him Jim. He was into paranormal things as well, but his stories were a lot darker and scarier than anything I’d ever experienced. He seemed nervous when we went, but it never bothered him enough to keep him out. He politely declined praying with the rest of the group (to each his own, but we prayed before AND after), and was always looking over his shoulder, as if something was going to “get him”.

   Jim and I ended up partnering up, and started to make our way around the cemetery. It was cold, and we were all bundled up. All was fine, until about halfway around the graveyard. Suddenly, he cried out, clutching his side. Startled, I asked what was wrong. “My side really hurts! It stings!” he said. I asked if maybe he brushed against something, or if maybe a bug had bitten him. Then I realized he was wearing not one, but two thick pullover sweatshirts, so that would have to be one ambitious bug!

  We radioed to the others that we were going to run to the car real quick, that Jim was having issues, but not to worry. As we came back upon the car, we stopped under the only street light in the whole place. Apparently, the burning and stinging was getting worse by the minute. Jim pulled the side of his shirts up so we could see what was hurting him, and it was BAD. Right along his ribs, there were three red, nasty looking scratch marks, as if something had swiped at him with long nails. I told him what I saw, and needless to say, he was done. After that, he refused to go on anymore outings with us.

  Fast forward a few years. Jim married the daughter of our head investigator, who had two children of her own.  At first, he was the model husband, stepfather, etc. AT FIRST. And then things changed. He got lazy. He got reclusive and mean. One night, as my best friend and I were sitting outside enjoying the weather and rehashing our day at work, we got a phone call from Jim’s sister in law. My best friend’s husband is a respected detective for the local police department, and the sister in law asked us to please call him and send him to such and such address. That night, they found out that Jim had been abusing his step daughter from the first day he’d married her mother. Which was shortly before the outing to the cemetery.

Some would think this and the scratches had no connection, but I genuinely believe that whatever was out there knew he was foul. 

It knew he was evil.

 And it didn’t want him there either .