I know what you are probably thinking. Here it is. Another one of those blatant, commercialistic “Christmas in July” gimmicks. Well, not so. But I made you look, didn’t I?

I am thinking about our Christmas Village today though. You know the one that you might have in your home in someway too, each Advent, Christmas, and/or winter season. In mine, it’s right up front in the entry way. It’s an homage to my parents’ home growing up, where they had their family village right in the entry way as the first sign of welcome upon coming in the warm doors to all of the smells, sounds, and signs of the season. It’s there in part in our current home because my dad knows me so well, that for a Christmas present one year here in Nebraska, he made a new standing tower shelf set to house the village that fit just perfectly there. And so it has a home on the same wall, in the same place, year after year.

But this village isn’t just about me. No. In fact, though I have made it my own and my family’s own, I have really only been adding to it over the years. You see, I inherited this village from my Great Aunt Dorothea. The consummate host. The world traveler. The cat lover. The head of nursing at major hospitals in Minnesota, Kansas City, Connecticut, and even one who taught and led in Saudi Arabia and Bangladesh. All of this is true. But to me, she was my Great Aunt Dorothea, who always had time to listen, to tell a story, and to make sure that Allison and I, and anyone really, had what they needed.

When Allison and I lived in Minnesota, it was my Great Aunt Dorothea and Great Aunt Elaine who made sure we were okay. They had us over for meals. They made sure we were always included in their family gatherings, and that we had a place at the table for every major holiday that we might not be out of town for. This is how I have always known my family to be. But to get to experience this with Allison in the years immediately after getting married, was a gift. Whether Dorothea knew it or not, she played a big role in shaping Allison and I as a couple. We saw her joy, and knew her love. We have always tried to be bearers of that too.

When the time came while we lived in Minnesota for Dorothea to sell her beloved home in South Minneapolis and to “downsize” a bit, it was a gift that we still lived there and could be a part of helping her move. She had done so for so many others in our larger family over the years, that it felt like a huge honor to be there to help with that process. And as we did, it was clear that there were some things that weren’t going to make the cut. Some of those things were going to be harder to part with than others. And one of those was Dorothea’s Christmas village. After a while of moving things, and seeing what would have to go, she asked me. I think deep down she knew how much I loved her village, and she knew how much I loved my mom’s village. I think part of her even hoped that I would say yes, in part to keep it going and growing. She asked me, “Timothy, would you and Allison like the Village?” I had to make sure Allison nodded her head in approval, but the moment I saw that glance, it was a response like, “Are you serious? Of course. We would love it, and we will care for it as you have so graciously cared for it.”

And so we have. And we do. The village has been on display since then in three different states. But it is a part of our story. In part because it’s not my village. It’s not Allison’s village. It’s Great Aunt Dorothea’s Village. One that I consider it my duty and joy to share with our kids, and others each year. To add to it, just a little bit like she did every year. So that the wonder, imagination, hope, and joy that it points to might just be more palpable year after year.

I share all of this, because I am thinking about this village this day in July. Not because I have the village out on display this month. No. But I am thinking about it, because I am thinking about my beloved Great Aunt Dorothea. Dorothea passed away late this past week. She was the youngest of four siblings, the oldest being my Grandma Melba (who passed away three years ago now, as hard as it is to believe). Their brother Roger passed away just late last summer. They are all survived by their Sister and my Great Aunt Elaine, who I am very much looking forward to seeing again soon, hopefully next month up in Minnesota.

Dorothea didn’t have any kids or grandkids of her own. But I think that just made her heart even bigger. She loved everyone’s pet, and almost always got all of the pets gifts for every Christmas. She also loved every niece, nephew, great niece, great nephew, and even great-great niece, and great-great nephew as her own.

I know this to be true because I felt it. Every time I got to spend time with my Great Aunt Dorothea. Like the time that she and Uncle Roger came to visit my Grandma and Grandpa and my parents and siblings and I, out in Washington. And we all did wheel barrel races for hours. Or like the time in college, when Choir of the West went on tour during J-Term to Minnesota, Iowa, and North Dakota and there they were, all of my living great aunts and great uncle and Grandma too in attendance at the various concert stops nearby (who schedules a choir tour to the upper midwest in January anyway?). Or like the time after college and just before moving out to Minnesota for seminary, when Great Aunt Dorothea along with Great Aunt Elaine and Great Uncle Roger all came to Washington for Allison’s and my wedding. Or when Dorothea and Elaine hosted a seminary graduation party at Dorothea’s house for Allison and me. Or the Christmas village which we will forever steward in her honor, as a sign of her gracious gifts, welcome, and joy. The list can and should go on.

Dorothea was a gift. To the world. To those who knew her. To her siblings. And to her whole big Tenney, Tengesdal, and Vangerud family. But for me, even more so, she was a gift because she knew just how to show welcome, love, and presence. And to always do so with a laugh, smile, or something else to put you at ease. All of which were always her gifts, but particularly during the formative years of my life as a husband and spouse with Allison. For that and so much more, I will always be grateful for my Great Aunt Dorothea. I love you so much, and trust that you, Grandma, and Great Uncle Roger are no doubt having a grand old time telling stories like always around a table, or chasing (or being chased) by the roosters outside the hen house.

Well done, good and faithful servant, Dorothea!

All of the official obituary details and funeral arrangements and many more pictures and stories will come in the days ahead. No doubt they will involve her beloved and long-time congregation home, Bethlehem Lutheran in Minneapolis too. In the meantime, join me in giving thanks for our beloved Great Aunt Dorothea. Thank you God for the gift of Dorothea! May she be lovingly welcomed into her heavenly home, just as she lovingly welcomed all into her homes here on earth.