Peace To You From Me

For me, Christmas has always been kind of quiet. I grew up in San Francisco with all grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins states away. It was just the four of us until I was 10—when my dad took himself out of the equation. From 10 on it was just the three of us, even though our move to Texas was made—in part—because of the more readily accessible family who lived near or around here. The family gatherings we envisioned upon arriving soon faded into the realization that family just isn't always a given.

I have a lot of joyful holiday memories—of looking at Christmas lights, of opening just one gift on Christmas Eve, of decorating the tree—but those memories are also mixed with a good amount of pain, brought on by the scars of a fractured family, my mom working so damn hard to feed our years-long desire for more more more, always leaving my mom at some point to travel back to California to visit my dad.

And yet I've always loved family, holidays, celebrating. I believe that in me—despite many reasons for the contrary—lies a person who is ridiculously optimistic.

Mike came with a very large and brimming-with-love family. It took just a bit of getting used to, all the people crammed together, laughing, playing poker, eating, drinking. We're celebrating our fourth Christmas together this year and although no two have been the same, they've all been louder, crazier than the Christmases that came before him.

And I know my mom sometimes thinks I like it better this way—with this bursting family I married into.

I find myself really lucky every time I'm around Mike's (now my very own) family because they are all funny and genuinely good people and all the horror stories I've heard about painful holidays with in-laws and drinking all the eggnog to get through them are not at all reminiscent of what I experience any time I'm around this large and lovely family.

And I am so fortunate, so grateful for his family, for each individual and for the collective group and each year—with the additions of babies and spouses—the family grows and the love never falls short. It's extraordinary, really.

One year—1996, I think, the last year Rachel was with us before she moved back to California—the three of us drove around our adjoining cities, marveling at the twinkling lights on the larger homes. My sister, at some point, got out of the car and danced in the street to a top-40 song on the radio, in front of a lit-up house and, possibly, a scared family within. My mom and I belly-laughed from the car, in disbelief that she was that crazy and that sane. It's one of my mom's favorite memories. And one of mine, too.

My Christmases have always been kind of quiet, but they've never been void of love, permeating off my mother so deep and so real that I've continually—for a lifetime, in fact—been wrapped up in it.

And I carry it with me when she's away from me.

I never put it down.

::

Mike and I are home alone for a few precious days, being lazy and finishing up our holiday cards (we like "holiday card" better than "Christmas card"  because there's a deadline attached to the latter—DECEMBER 25!—but holiday is more casual and can arrive by, say Valentine's without really being late). I've done a few loads of dishes and have promised to do a few loads of laundry at some point today, thus taking care of the wall of dirty clothes in our bedroom, a wall that doesn't quite fit the motif we're aiming for. I've updated my new address book and have finally caught up on most of your blogs. I've picked out the desserts I'm bringing to Christmas dinner at Mike's parents house. And this morning, we're having turkey burgers for breakfast because we can.

Life is really funny—funnier even than Sonic commercials—in that it forces you always forward. Once a year you celebrate something you celebrated a short year ago and you have a choice: to live in this moment or to live in any number of moments that came before. If you are living right, if you are living the way my mother taught me how to live, you take everything you need from the past (the good stuff, yes) and hold it close to you as you soak up all the joy and love from this moment, this day. And then you rinse and repeat until every moment is sprinkled with the greatness of your past while never really living in it.

And then, magically, you wake up one day to realize that no matter what painful past you're coming off of or what uncomfortable moment you may be currently standing in, you have enough good spilling out of you to make every day—holidays included—peaceful.

And despite the crazy chaos of holiday mall shopping and holiday traffic and being elbowed by that whore woman in Barnes & Noble who obviously needed—badly—to be in front of you in line and the never-ending to-do list and the stress of finding that one perfect gift for your hard-to-shop-for friend and the kitchen that apparently exploded under the weight of holiday cooking and the dwindling bank account, despite all of it, I think the real reason for the season is having enough peace within you to ignore all of that commercial insanity and enjoy it for all the painfully obvious reasons—time off work, time with those you love, warmth and food and company.

Whatever you're up to, whatever your traditions consist of, whatever gifts you end up getting or giving, whoever you're spending the next week with, whatever you get to eat or drink, I hope your holiday is filled with peace.

I hope it's just spilling out of you.

From my beautiful family to yours: Happy Holidays.

(If you get this card in the next month or so, act surprised, okay?)

Comments

[Raven]

Aww!!

[Katie]

What an adorable card! After writing out all of our Christmas cards this year, I made the executive decision that I'm sending photo cards from here on out.
Merry Christmas to you and Mike...may all of your happy memories from the past and all of the good memories to come collide in a wonderful mash of love and happiness :)

[Angella]

Beautiful post, Jennifer!

And the card? Sweet.

Merry Christmas!

xoxo

[slynnro]

We do the "just one" on Xmas eve thing too! And I also adore Sonic commercials.

My family is uber small too, and so is Aaron's. I always sort of secretly hoped to marry into some giant family as you describe Mike's. Lucky you!

[Sabrina]

My family holidays were always loud and crazy. My first Christmas with Tony was so strange since it was just the two of us. I felt like it needed to be louder. I think I'm used to the quiet holidays now.

Wishing you the Merriest Christmas, loud or quiet!

[Raven]

You and slynnro are both getting double comments today. Judging from the amount of crap under our tree and the amount of money we have doled out this year, big family Christmas is not all it's cracked up to be. People invariably get their feelings hurt when you go to one house vs the other and so on.

[Lane]

I really love your card. I hope you have a splendid holiday with your husband's family.

Merry Christmas Jennie!

p.s. The haircut has not happened yet. I will send pictures once I get after these bangs of mine.

[Michelle & the City]

cute cards! hope you guys have a wonderful holiday! and i don't think there's anything wrong with turkey burgers for breakfast ;)

[Kristabella]

Cute card!

I am always one of the first to send out my holiday cards. This year, because I'm all Bah Humbugy, I waited longer. And I figure that New Year's is still a holiday too. Plus, my card is a photo of me and Jerry Rice, so people like to get it, no matter what time of year it is!

Have a great Christmas!

[Roz]

Wow! Uber-cute card!!!

If you feel like heading to Las Vegas to celebrate New Years and Your Birthday, lemme know....i'll be there! :)

In any case, have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and Birthday!

[Erin]

Cute cute card? What did ya make it in, if you don't mind me askin:) Hope you had a happy happy merry merry!

[kerrianne]

I love! your cards. Happy! Christmas to you and yours.

(And I hereby have not a fraction of the will power you of your Christmas Eves of yore; I opened ALL my gifts on Christmas Eve. This year and nearly every year. Because I am perpetually twelve, clearly.)

[Kristie]

Oh, I just love that holiday card! I"m waiting anxiously for it in the mail. :-)