This Christmas I'm Going All In

More light, more sparkle, more I-love-you's, more dancing

Here’s what I’m doing this holiday season: I’m going all in. I’m all in for Christmas. All in for merriment, all in for traditions, all in for connection, all in for memory-making.

Maybe it’s because I’m so incredibly aware that it’s our last Christmas season with Henry living at home—yes, I know he’ll come home from college, and it’s so fun to see our friends’ kids coming home this week, taller and with a little college swagger in their steps—but it will be different.

And maybe it’s because we’re in a new apartment—we love our new spot, but we have one million bazillion memories of the holiday season at the seminary, from the Turkey Bowl in the courtyard on Thanksgiving morning to poker and leftovers on Christmas night.

In a new home, it’s the traditions that reconnect us to our most treasured memories. The space is new, but the traditions anchor us. This is why traditions matter so much: because they can create a sense of home and connection and memories in new spaces—it’s a new living room, but the stockings on the mantle are the ones we’ve had forever. It’s a new neighborhood, but we walked our tree home from the Christmas tree stand on the corner outside the bodega, just like the one outside Rite-Aid in our old neighborhood. Everything around us is new, but the ornaments on the tree take us back to Henry’s preschool days, William’s baby years.

Here’s what I want you to do today: take 15 minutes and think forward to, say, January 2nd. The holidays are over. Kids are back in school, out of town guests have left. Presents have been opened, meals and gatherings have come and gone.

What would you regret? What conversation do you want to have? What tradition really matters to you? Who do you want to spend time with? What experiences and moments matter most to you?

What would I regret: I would regret if I organized an amazing holiday season but didn’t really experience it. I think that’s a very common phenomenon, especially for women, especially for mothers. It’s easy for me to get so far into the lists and the errands and the plans and the details that I miss the moments that really matter--they’re all playing a game but I’m doing dishes. They’re all watching a Christmas movie but I’m…doing dishes. They’re ice skating but I leave early to run errands…what I mean is that sometimes my strategic self gets in the way of my heart self, and I miss the most important things because of it.

And that’s what I’m determined NOT to do this time around. I’m going to say yes to last-minute invitations. I might even throw out a few last-minute invitations of my own. I’m going to say yes to champagne every time it’s on offer, and I’m going to go hard on sparkles and sprinkles of every kind. I’m going to play. I’m going to sleep in.

I’m going to let the to-do list go in order to watch Christmas movies with my kids. I’m going to go for walks, play games, snuggle on the couch. We’re going to have raisin toast for dinner, let the boys have sleepovers with more kids than makes sense for this little apartment.

Over the weekend, I was in the middle of about a dozen cooking projects when William asked if I would sit down and make a gingerbread house with him. I turned off all the burners, left the kitchen a mess, sat down next to him at our tiny table. I wanted to memorize every second of it—how many gingerbread house years do we have left with a thirteen year old?

Last night when I came home from taking Henry to the dentist and then stopping at the grocery store, I was tired and hungry, trying to get my mind around what to make for dinner. Aaron yelled from his office, “how about I take you out for dinner? Leave in 10?” Omg yes. We ran out the door to our favorite neighborhood spot, tiny and loud. Great Lambrusco, excellent pasta, a lovely stolen moment to catch up and laugh and talk about our days. That’s what I want this season—stolen moments, memory-makers, last minute delights.

Here’s what I want you to do: say it. Wear it. Eat it. Be a little bit extra in all the ways you want to be. ‘Tis the season to get away with it.

There will be plenty of months to be organized and sensible, to go to bed on time. Let’s all agree that this is not the time for that—this is the time for a little extra everything. More hugs, more I love you’s. More dancing, more playing, more laughing.

Don’t skimp on merriment and connection and meaning this time of year. Let’s gather, let’s leave nothing unsaid. Let’s tell people we love them. Let’s have gingerbread cookies for breakfast & stay up a little too late.

This year, we’re going all in on joy, on connection, on memory-making. All in on cookies and dancing. I ordered a dress for New Year’s Eve that is probably too sparkly and almost definitely too short, and I feel great about it—I’m all in.

I’m all in for more wonder, more play, more connection, more silliness. More carols, more twinkly lights, more dancing in the kitchen. More last-minute stopovers for hot chocolate and popcorn, more reading great books by the light of the tree.

It’s been A YEAR. A lot of really great stuff. A lot of really hard stuff, too. Some major weights we’ve carried privately, a big move, fears for the future of our country, lots of changes ahead.

I struggled with anxiety and fear this spring and summer in a more acute way than I have for several years—it focused itself on the move, but looking back I can see that it was outsized for the circumstances, something I need to interrogate further, something I want to learn more about. I had migraines over and over, my body and brain demonstrating in clear terms what was happening in my heart and spirit. Lots of tears. Lots of sleepless nights.

But we’re not there anymore—thank God. We made it through—thank God. We’re making a new home—thank God. Two people we love who have struggled in serious ways this year are on solid ground as of today—thank God.

What I’m saying is that I don’t want to be stingy with joy this Christmas. I spent enough of the year in rough emotional terrain and major logistics mode, and I want to lay both of those down for a little while. I want lightness, beauty, hope.

You know how much we love the Advent Book. When the boys were little, we read it every night in December. These days we try for every couple days, and after all these years, they know it by heart. As we turn the pages and read in funny voices, this time around what’s been striking me is the light coming through the darkness, the stars that guide the shepherds and the wise men.

In our various traditions, we light Advent candles each week at church, we circle our trees with twinkling lights, we put candles in the windowsills. This ‘light-in-darkness’ idea is a central theme of both Christmas and Hanukkah.

And that’s what I want this season: light in darkness. This year has held some darkness, for us, for so many people we love, for so many people around the world. It isn’t over, but what I want to do these last days of December is look for the light. Celebrate the light. Be the light.

That’s what I mean by all in. The darkness is stubborn and vast, but I’m ready for a little light. I’m aching for it. Guess what? I’m stubborn, too, and I want these days to be special and hopeful, full of beauty, full of love, full of light. All in.

Here’s to the light in the darkness, to hope, to dancing.

Here’s to going all in on joy, to sparkles and sprinkles, to leaving nothing unsaid.

Here’s to big hugs, saying yes, open hearts. All in.

Wishing you and yours a very very Merry Christmas! XO--S