The Green Lantern

When we were little, we typically were given an ornament by our grandparents or our parents each Christmas. I believe it was a tradition with my grandparents, actually, so we have all of these neat ornaments now of whatever we were into at the time -- ballet, cheerleading, porcelain masks (yes), Mary Poppins.

But one year my mom and dad took us to Franks or Michaels or some hobby-type store and let us choose our own ornaments. My sister was maybe six and that would make me nine. I don't remember what I chose, but Andrea picked a green lantern, like the kind you take camping, that was about three inches tall with a rusty brown top and maybe even a spot to put a tree light in the candle part but we never did.

My parents tried to show her other ornaments that would more appropriately suit a six-year-old girl, but she was firm about the lantern. And let me tell you, each year that we hung that lantern, we talked about that story, and about Andrea and her wonderful, positive personality that found a dull camp lantern to be beautiful.

Now 28, she is still that person -- she finds goodness in all and devotes herself almost completely to caring for others. I think, if given the chance, she would pick that green lantern again today. There was something secret about it that was charming to her, that the average person couldn't see. And she picks this out in everyone she meets.

A few weeks ago Trevor mentioned to me that he thought we should get the girls exciting ornaments that they'd like to hang on the Christmas tree this year. At first I was into the idea of Berit opening a ballerina or Cinderella ornament, or Marta ripping apart a box containing a piglet or doggie ornament.

But then I remembered the green lantern, and we decided to let them choose for themselves.