But when I was a child, I typically only receive the miniature ones, always to my dismay.
So as a parent, I only dispersed the "regular-sized" candy canes to my kids - and usually only for St. Nicholas Day (Dec. 6), about the one day of the year that I eat an actual candy cane. True to form, I've eaten just the one this year - I have more still tucked inside my stocking.
I became a fan of candy canes on that day years ago after reading a blessing prayer for candy canes on St. Nicholas day in a book my mother sold in her Christian gift shop.
It was called Prayers for the Domestic Church (originally published in 1979), and I longed to own that book. My oldest kids were very young, and I was building up our home prayer life at the time and seeking ways to seamlessly weave that into our ordinary lives.
My mother gave it to me at Christmas one year. We used it so much, most of the pages split apart from the binding. The book was lost in one of our many moves.
The blessing prayer for St. Nicholas candy canes is here.
But now, I also like miniature candy canes all though December, especially if they are cold. And that's because of Ed Calkins.
When my family and I delivered newspapers in the middle of the night, and when Ed Calkins was my supervisor for one of those routes, he always distributed miniature candy canes with our route books. And he did this every day throughout December.
I believe that an ordinary gift, when given sincerely and with well wishes, becomes more than an ordinary gift.
I'd usually eat that candy cane while we were actually out about in the middle of the night, windows down, heat blasting on high. We had nearly a thousand papers (not counting Ron's papers), so we were out there about three hours every night.
This year, when Ed and Nancy Calkins dropped of the artwork for Ruthless, he also dropped off three round peppermint balls, apologizing for the lack of actual candy canes since they were in short supply this year. Because COVID and candy canes go together, I guess.
Last week, Rebekah and Daniel shopped for our Christmas Eve food. Rebekah spied a box of miniature candy canes. She checked the expiration date: 2023.
So Rebekah bought it and placed it under our tree for Ed, whenever we see him again (hopefully before 2023).
In doing so, Rebekah became part of the chain of giving a taste of something sweet to weary people working in the cold dead of night when more sensible people are sleeping.
Merry Christmas, Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara!
