Thirty-seven times I've unpacked these decorations, these lights and holiday baubles. And I'm glad the people in my family don't insist on helping to get our house ready for Christmas because I like to take this trip through years of memories solo. Besides, I know where everything goes. It must be the same as last year and the year before and the year before that. Any other way just wouldn't be right.

There's not one thing in all of these boxes that doesn't symbolize an event in our marriage, a season in our family's life or a small boy's best work.

As each adornment comes to rest in its pre-appointed position, a wonderful thing happens: I start to relive the past years through the collective memories of past holiday seasons. There's something about chubby faces framed by Mason jar lids and macaroni angels that brings the tears and washes the soul.

I'm immersed in the wonder that I've been given another year to know my boys and my husband. I recall with amazing acuity the seasons through which we've traveled. With twenty-twenty vision, I see how things did work together — those situations we questioned did happen for a reason. Trials did bring triumphs, and little boys did become good men.

I force myself to pause momentarily and remember the failures and mistakes. They have a way of keeping everything in perspective. I can't help but reflect on the events of this season. The traditions we repeat year after year are what bring a sense of security and warmth in the midst of our hectic and fragmented lives.

The stabilizing effect of holiday traditions has carried us through difficult times. When there was little money to buy gifts, our unchanging traditions diverted our attention from what we didn't have to what we did.

It never ceases to amaze me that hardly any of us can recall the gifts we received as recently as last year. But we remember exactly what we did, who came to visit and everything that contributed to the warmth and wonder of the season.

Later on, as I put everything away (solo, of course), I will think about how quickly time passes and how soon I'll be unpacking again. I daydream about what might happen in the next all-too-short 12 months. I wonder what possible challenges or dramatic changes we'll face in the coming year. Our lives could be altered drastically by the time I open these boxes again.

So with the joy of the seasons past still lingering and the promise of the year to come beckoning, I hang that last ornament in its spot and sit back to admire and reflect on the mercy and grace that allow me to experience this kind of joy. Just one more time.

Mary Hunt is the founder of www.debtproofliving.com and author of 17 books, including "Debt-Proof Living." You can e-mail her at [email protected] or write to Everyday Cheapskate, P.O. Box 2135, Paramount, CA 90723. To find out more about Mary Hunt and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.