and here we are

It took roughly a decade to get to November 3 of this year, yet somehow the month (!!) that has followed has gone by in the blink of an eye. 

We spent Thanksgiving just like we've spent every other important day this year: just the five of us. Both of our families had gatherings, but we opted to stay home to keep everyone a little bit safer (not just us, but our families). Mike cooked a turkey, which he then promptly turned into delicious turkey avocado enchiladas. We did some projects around the house, and then had a family work day out in the barn Saturday where we made another tiny dent in shoveling out all the literal and figurative shit that's been out there since before we moved in. It's a little like finding an attic filled with stuff, and you don't know if it will be trash or treasure. Yeah, like that, except with manure and nesting critters.

Suddenly we're into December, and preparing for a Christmas season that will look and feel vastly different than the ones that came before. Will any Christmas ever be normal again? Who knows — but this one definitely won't.

If you're assuming that means we won't be seeing anyone for Christmas, you're right. There's just no way that it can be safe for everyone. And for us, that's ok. We're not religious, so to us Christmas is just an excuse to spend time with people we care about — and honestly, we would rather have that time when there aren't accompanying expectations and traditions and stresses. I've never really seen the point in a day of family obligation to celebrate for the sake of tradition; I would much rather see people spontaneously on a random fall evening than feel obligated to make noodles for 125 people. 

So here's the thing: If you're a person who usually buys gifts for us or for the boys, you should know that the gift we really want, the gift we've ALWAYS wanted, is time. Time to be together without the pressure of an official engagement. Time to form real connections throughout the year instead of getting together on prescribed days of obligatory celebration. We want your stories. We want to know you. And we want to know that you really know us.

I am fully aware, believe me, that time together is not something we're going to get physically this year. It's just not. And that's ok, because what I'm talking about isn't necessarily just a physical togetherness. I've been thinking a LOT about how to make the end of the year special, and how to connect with people when we're not going to physically connect. And for me, that means I'm reassessing the old traditions and thinking about what's really important. 

I probably won't see any of my aunts, uncles, or cousins this year. ANY of my family members who don't live in this house, really. So I had this idea that we should do a gingerbread house competition. Anyone who wants to participate will buy the same $10 gingerbread house kit from Target (I have five of them lined up in my office at this very minute), and we'll all decorate them and post pictures in our online family group. We'll have Aunt Rita be the judge, and she'll award prizes to winners in each age group. And what are the prizes, you ask? Well, I don't know yet, but I know they'll be special. I've asked my family to donate prizes that are either handmade or that mean something to us, like a memento. For my part, I'll offer up a copy of the photo memory book I made for Gramps for his 80th birthday, and also one of my great-grandpa's business cards from Jeffirs Motor Co. that has a handwritten note on the back: "next week's allowance." (Side note: Aunt Rita tells me that she and Grandma Ethel both got an allowance every week. Aunt Rita got $10 pocket money, and Grandma Ethel got grocery and spending money. So this note could refer to either of them.)

It's a silly competition, but I think it will be a lot of fun and will foster a sense of togetherness that will otherwise be missing this year. Plus I'm super excited about my top-secret gingerbread project. I really shouldn't even talk about it because I'm not sure I have the artistry to pull it off, but I'm damned well going to try.

Will I do a traditional card and letter this year? I dunno. Maybe not. It certainly isn't the most personal way to reach out to people. I might do something totally different. Let's be honest, this year has sucked, and there's not a whole lot to write about. BUT this year is also an opportunity to redefine what we want from our connections with people. And I'm all about that.

So I encourage you, friends, to keep this a little in mind as you go about your holiday shopping. If you want to buy a traditional gift, that's great! But also maybe think about ways you can personally connect with the person you're giving a gift to. Write a letter. Send a photo that means something to you, and enclose a little backstory that reveals something of yourself. Use Zoom, or FaceTime, or the phone and have a real conversation, just you and someone you care about. And then make that a habit. Drop something in the mail every month, just to delight whoever's on the other end. Christmas isn't the only time your people want to hear from you.