As Grown-Up at Christmas

...I believe in Santa Claus more fiercely than I ever have.

...Even though I haven't spent Christmas with my grandmother in...oh, going on fifteen years, I was still surprised at how much I had depended on the knowledge that she was making peanut butter balls and stuffing at the same time that I was each year.  It seems odd to miss spending Christmas with someone you didn't spend Christmas with, but I do.

...I know that Christmas spirit is in my blood.  No matter what the circumstances, no matter how the year had been, I don't remember a bad Christmas.  This wasn't because we were always wealthy or perfectly happy--far from it--it's because my mother always made the best of the holidays.  And the way she talks about her father, he did the same.  I come from a long line of Christmas, and it's taken becoming a mama myself to realize what that actually took.  I promise to keep up the good work.

...I understand the Christmas story in a whole different way.  As an angsty teenager I can remember thinking, "Of course you'd give up your child to save all of humanity--duh!"  Now...maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't, but even thinking about the choice makes my heart almost stop.

...I love my husband.  For many reasons, but tonight particularly because he has acceded to my silly demand that we must have Christmas Eve crab legs, change into new pj's, and watch the ever-so-cheesy Santa Claus, The Movie.

...I've discovered that the best Christmases--the magical ones where the snow falls up to your knees or you and your least favorite cousin end up tipsily wrapping your arms around each others' shoulders as you sing a chorus of "Jingle Bells"--can't be planned or checked off of a list.  They're a gift.

Merry Christmas friends!