Dear Eddie, Christmas will come even if I’m Not in charge. You might be hard-pressed to see that I am not in charge since I automatically go into hyperdrive as Thanksgiving approaches each year. I have found that we can have more meaningful Christmases, both spiritually and familially, if I don’t give in to the urge to “go Freaknik” as our family knows it. I come by the urge naturally. I’m a big sister of three little brothers. I was Mama’s go-to partner in making celebrations. I am glad to be a celebration maker. I must acknowledge that part of me. I must also put the love behind that near panic into more helpful practices. I need to relax and pace, practice the rituals, and make time for the two of us to celebrate. You are my partner in this. We can do it.

We can relax and pace our observances. There is indeed an order to celebrating the season. We hang the greens at church the week before Advent begins. The Waleska Tree Lighting and the arrival of our streetlight Angel are early. We like lights on our porch by the first weekend in December. The “Women’s Temperance Union,” as you call it, always has a great project and a wonderful gathering. Shipping boxes to make sure Santa arrives on time for our beloved son in Wyoming must beat the rush.

We can observe the rituals, making spaces to find the meanings in the season. In addition to preparing our home, we need to prepare our hearts. That means our spiritual hearts and our precious family heart. I am thankful we learned early to observe Advent candle lighting together. I remember lighting candles together when we were “kids,” before we had kids. I remember taking a salt-dough clay wreath with us on a rare Christmas away from home. I remember lighting candles with the family in our Oklahoma church the morning after your  dad died. It’s what we do. Now, I particularly cherish the family dinners when we light the candles each week. Two generations of our kids swarm the house bringing noise and a grand-dog to race up and down the steps. After dinner, the crew sprawls on the living room floor where they are so big that we can’t even step around them anymore. They leave in a whirlwind just as they came, shouting, “Grandma, what are we having for dinner next week?” And then quiet firelight with you and me and the cat. And the memories—from being children, from being newly-weds, from being parents of little kids and then teenagers, and of small grandchildren and now big grandchildren. Memories layer, and we are laughing about long ago, but about this week, as well.

We can cherish time to reminisce and to enjoy our present. We can prioritize time for us. This December, I appreciate your leadership in saying, “Well, let’s put the lights up.” (Now) You decided we needed a date to the new burgertorium at the Mill (Tonight.) Spontaneously just going meant that we got our own drive-by Christmas parade as the units returned from downtown, coming right by our car window with very personal face-to-face greetings; a new memory was layered on. Another Christmas of loving you.     Sylvia