Nate was big on holidays. Our firstborn was 11 months old on his first Christmas, and we bought the little guy 17 presents. It was a classic case of overkill, and as any experienced parent could have predicted, he was crying with frustration by the end of the unwrapping session. All he wanted was the first gift, the one we ripped out of his hands so we could put the second gift into them, then the third, etc.

Last Christmas, our 36^th with children, we each drew one name from a hat and bought one gift for that person. Whew… a much wiser, calmer Christmas morning. That’s not to say, however, we still didn’t lean toward extremes now and then. Take Nate’s approach to holiday neck ties. He loved receiving a new tie, and every year under the tree there was sure to be a long, flat box foretelling he was about to receive another one. Tie-buying children thought he would be disappointed with such a humble gift, but Nate lovingly wore his ties to the frayed stage, bragging about which child had purchased which one.

Altogether he had over 100 neckties, and I accused him of tie-gluttony. More than 40 of them had holiday themes. He wore candy hearts on Valentine’s Day, shamrocks on St. Patrick’s Day, purple plaid on Easter, flags on the 4^th of July, pilgrims on Thanksgiving, and balloons on New Year’s Day. But the category with the greatest abundance was Christmas.

Nate had enough Christmas ties not to have to repeat even once during the holiday season. Although he had snowmen, Santas, nativity scenes, Snoopy and Christmas trees, his favorite was a red tie with big candy canes on it. That was also the one with the most salad dressing stains, the price it paid for peak popularity.

Nate’s ties became legendary at the office, or should I say comical. His last day at work was September 23, and we returned once after that, ostensibly to say goodbye. That last visit was bittersweet for Nate and also for his office mates, some who had tears in their eyes. Hugs were plentiful, and although no one said it with words, we all knew each was the last. That kind of goodbye must rank among life’s most painful experiences.

Nate’s co-workers knew he was coming that day and prepared a loving gesture that touched us both deeply. They wore holiday neckties and jewelry, even though it was October. Nate got the joke right away and appreciated their effort. I wondered as the twenty or so of us sat in the conference room if he let his thoughts travel to the coming Christmas season and his own tie wardrobe, wondering if he might make it that far. Knowing he knew it was unlikely is a grievous thought.

A couple of weeks ago, I brought the holiday ties out of their storage basket where they’d been rolled neatly since last January. We spread them on the dining room table, and all of us enjoyed handling these remembrances of Nate. “Oh, I remember this one most of all,” Birgitta said. “This reminds me so much of Papa.”

“I want to keep this one,” Louisa said.

“And I want that one,” someone else chimed in.

We sent a few ties to friends we knew would take pleasure in having them and bundled the rest into a box to send to the office. Some could be worn. Others could be used as decorations. All would be appropriate reminders of a guy who dearly loved each of his co-workers.

Our church hymnal has a song entitled “Blest Be the Tie that Binds.” Written in the late 1700’s, it refers to the sweet bond of friendship, a “fellowship of kindred minds” and says, “Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one.” The last verse talks about Nate’s final visit to the office: “When we asunder part, it gives us inward pain; but we shall still be joined in heart, and hope to meet again.”

May Nate’s Christmas ties be the “tie that binds.”

“Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.” (Romans 12:15)