I love this lamp. It isn’t just a light to me; it’s a compass of memory, a gentle glow that has carried us from one Christmas to the next for years. For what felt like forever, I admired one sitting in a window on Main Street in Minden, Louisiana. It was a leg lamp, bold and gleaming. It made me smile every time I saw it. I added it to my list of Christmas wishes.
Years later, when my kids were little, my husband Bill finally caved under pressure from Zach and Gracie, of course, to buy a leg lamp like the one that I had admired in the window. The box arrived marked “Fra-jee-lay.” I remember thinking, with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, “it must be Italian.” The lamp stood there, a slender silhouette to bring a smile and from that moment it became a part of our Christmas tradition.
This lamp means more than the memory of a house on a corner in Minden. It’s tied to another tradition in our home, a thread that runs through the core of who we are. You might recall the origin of the leg lamp, the iconic centerpiece from a Christmas classic, “A Christmas Story.” The film airs on TNT for 24 hours beginning on Christmas Eve, and it’s a favorite in our house. Pretty much every member of our family can recite the words by heart. While we don’t leave the TV on for an all-day marathon, the movie finds its way into our holiday season plenty of times.
This tradition has its roots in Bill’s Dad, Mr. Kennedy. He loved the show and it was always playing at their house on Christmas Eve. You could say that Mr. Billy handed down his love of “A Christmas Story” to us, and in carrying that lamp into our home, we carried a little piece of him, too. In the film, the lamp is a “major award.” To us, this leg is every bit, perhaps a more tender kind of major award: the one that holds our family’s laughter, its stories, and the small traditions that make a holiday feel like home.
No Christmas Eve passes that I don’t remember Mr. Kennedy calling us to hurry along , to arrive on time so the Christmas magic could begin. He loved Christmas and he loved his family. It’s funny how something as ordinary as a lamp or a cherished movie can carry so much warmth. The lamp sits in our window, a quiet witness to our gathering, a reminder of the moments that feel both fleeting and forever.
We have built up a collection of traditions in our house. Some grand, some simple. I’ve learned they aren’t about perfection; they’re about presence. They’re about weaving time, memory, and love into something tangible you can look back on with warmth. Traditions reveal what matters most to your family. Is it generosity, simplicity, humor, faith, or something else entirely? Let your values shape your traditions.
Christmas, to me, is more than twinkling lights, festive songs, and that coveted gift under the tree. At its heart, Christmas is a celebration of family. It’s the celebration of the people who have shaped us, the stories we share, and the memories we carry forward. One of the most meaningful ways we honor time and family is through tradition: rituals we repeat year after year, generations of love braided into the fabric of our celebration. Psalm 133:1 comes to mind, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.”
This season, I invite you to consider what memory you want to carry forward. Think of the stories you want to tell on future holidays. Consider the laughter that will echo around the table, the quiet moments of reflection, and the acts of kindness that begin with family. By nurturing traditions, you’re not just celebrating Christmas; you’re honoring time itself and the people who make that time worth cherishing. And perhaps, when you dust off the lamp’s soft glow or press play on a familiar movie, you’ll find your own major award waiting there, shining with the warmth of home. As always, have a great day on purpose.
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