Christmas Wish
In the uncertainty of tomorrow and the quiet space within ourselves where we are honest, please tend to our vulnerability
Dear Friends,
Tomorrow kicks off a new year and though I don’t feel “ready” I’m excited for what 2025 will bring. I have two children’s books I hope to publish next holiday season. I also will be returning to my nutrition consultant roots and taking a Nutrition Science certificate course from Standford Medicine. It’s been over 4 years since I worked as a trainer and nutritionist. I’m looking forward to what I can learn and how I might be inspired to use that knowledge. I’ll also be learning Tagalog along with the kids. I’m hoping to become fluent by the time we travel there sometime in the next couple of years.
But, that is the future. And yes, those are “plans.” What remains more real is the present. And it’s still Christmas for a few more days. So while I wish you a happy New Year’s Eve, I also send you this reflection titled, Christmas Wish.
A couple of years ago, we celebrated Kevin’s birthday and Father’s Day at Mama Tree, our new home. My mom was still alive and she and my dad had just moved into the apartment we had set up for them on our first floor. While she sat and relaxed in their sitting room, my dad was in the main kitchen washing dishes and cleaning up after the Filipino breakfast he had cooked our family. My sisters, their misters, and all 7 of my parents’ grandkids were outside. We sat in the shade of the lanai, sipping coffee, and watched the kids play.
I walked back inside and caught my dad looking out at everyone and everything. We had “made” it. All that struggle and sacrifice he and my mom had gone through in life, raising us, putting us through college, and supporting us as we all started our careers - and here we were, all together, in our new home. I walked up to him and gave him a hug. I think I saw him tear up a bit.
But I understood that moment, that it was pure grace. That it was a gift.
The last hour of cooking and prepping for our Christmas Day celebration last week was holy chaos.
My dad was finishing up the baked potatoes and lobster. We were sharing the two ovens while I prepared the jalapeno mac n cheese and bread rolls. My sister had just arrived to set up the prime rib and sushi bake. My brother-in-law set up the treat display and everyone was in the kitchen surrounding the charcuterie board my other sister put together that spanned our island. I was up and down a step stool frying lumpia in our new fryer.
My niece had made the crafty place setting chargers and handwrote all the place cards for our dining table. The kids were upstairs squealing and playing around. They even had a table set in the loft with a pink tablecloth and nutcracker-themed napkins. Kevin was running around putting last-minute touches on the downstairs table that would sit all 15 of us adults. I placed open bottles of wine and chilled sparkling apple cider up and down the table along the centerpiece, a garland of pine with red berries tucked into its needles with a string of tiny fairy lights that wrapped it from end to end like twine.
I remember my first holiday decades ago when I sat at a large table with family and serving plates came out as we passed along the food. It was at Donna's, my first mother-in-law. Being Filipino-American I was used to buffet-type large family gatherings where chairs were placed all throughout the house to sit on as we ate. There might be a table or two to sit at momentarily to eat before giving your spot to another to sit down and do the same. But it was primarily like a big party and everyone just found a spot to eat wherever they could. So at Donna's, I was wide-eyed as I found myself smack dab in the middle of a "white" Christmas - an American sit-down dinner.
There was so much I loved about those holiday meals over the years. I loved how everyone sat together. We ate and talked. The meal wasn't rushed and one could sit in their seat for hours to just eat and relax. It felt so communal because everyone was at the same table.
I loved the formality of starting with a salad and bread, moving onto the main dishes and sides, and ending with fresh hot brewed coffee and dessert. The centerpieces always delighted me. Donna's Christmas centerpiece was a vintage multi-level nutcracker-themed merry-go-round that spun when the candles were lit and the heat from the flames moved propellers at the top. I always wanted to sit right across from it. I understood the science of it, but it felt like quiet magic to me.
During those years, I indulged in these traditions of multi-course meals around a shared table and took notes. I wanted to host a holiday like that one day. I wanted something where we all sat down together with nothing to distract us from being in each other's presence - no TV, no phones, just friends and family eating, sharing stories, laughing, and being together.
When Kevin and I were dating, we shared how our favorite memories growing up included holidays and trips spent with our cousins. We absolutely cherished those times and we wanted to be able to give that to our kids. So years later when Kevin was finishing training in Florida and he was trying to find a job, our goal was to get back to California, to get back to family. Leni was about to turn one and it was our desperate dream to have our kids grow up with family.
As I was weaving around my dad in the kitchen on that Christmas morning, I felt that same feeling - we had “made” it. We were all together, we were about to have a fabulous meal, my sisters and their families were there, and Kevin’s family was over. The house felt alive with the energy of family.
So in the middle of that holy chaos, I felt a moment expand and I think I understood a bit more what my dad felt on that morning years ago.
When one has kids, everything changes - priorities change, plans change. Questions I find myself asking a lot are, “Are my kids ok? Are they happy? Do they have what they need? Do they feel loved?”
I ask these because those little human beings are my highest priority. But I realized something on Christmas morning. I also ask those questions because if my kids are ok, if they are happy, if they have what they need and they feel loved, then I am ok, I am happy, I have what I need, and I feel loved.
When we love others, truly love them, we are bonded in a way where our well-being is connected - whether we like it or not, whether it’s healthy or not. We struggle to be happy if the other is sad. When we feel joy, we desire the other to feel joy as well. Because we know, for better or worse, our lives mean so much more when we are well together.
I got my grown-up Christmas wish this year. Buffet-style dishes lined the counters in the kitchen. We all sat at the same table, passing wine, and being present to one another. The kids got to spend time with their cousins and family.
And I know that my mom, Kevin’s mom, and my Auntie Nora were a part of that. Even if I couldn’t see them. And I hope that from wherever their vantage point may be, they know that I am incredibly thankful to them, for all they did and sacrificed for me, Kevin, and the kids. Being a parent doesn’t stop when one passes away. I know they are still doing what they can, all the time, to make sure we know that we are loved from beyond.
Reflection Activity
Last Christmas was a different story for us. We all had COVID and so we spent it with just ourselves at home. We had just celebrated my mom’s 1 year death anniversary. I was buried in the grief of where my evolving faith was taking me - away from one denomination and towards another. And while this Christmas might read a bit picture-perfect, it comes after a year of growing pains.
So my reflection activity is one where I hope, whatever type of Christmas season you are experiencing, it seems inviting.
If time allows, make yourself a hot beverage, find a quiet place to sit, and ask yourself what your grown-up Christmas wish is. I know Christmas day was last week, but in the Christmas tradition we celebrate, Christmas is 12 days long and so I thought I’d still ask.
Wherever reflecting on that wish takes you, to some place joyful or sad, I want to wish you peace.
Closing Prayer
Dear God, only you know what lies ahead for any of us. Only you know the wishes we keep in our hearts that may never be spoken aloud. So in the uncertainty of tomorrow and the quiet space within ourselves where we are honest, please tend to our vulnerability. Let your companionship be known to us this Christmas. Amen.