Feather and Ash

I don’t know what I expected it to be.  Maybe I did.  Maybe I thought everything about this season would feel nauseating. Maybe I thought I would feel angry and robbed to sense others' anticipation and happiness as they celebrated with family. Maybe I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop weeping. Maybe I thought all those things could be true, but it was not like that. But it wasn't easy either.  I have cried deeply, honestly, everyday.  I delayed decorations and avoided celebrations as long as I could. I stayed in bed for two days last week when everything felt too heavy and hard to do.  We didn’t get our tree until the 22nd. No gifts until the 23rd. Didn’t wrap a thing until the 24th. Instead of a long, dreadful walk through garish, manufactured, sugarplum happiness, Christmas came almost like a shot at the doctor’s office you didn’t see coming. It’s here. You're doing it. It’s done before you can even get yourself too worked up.  So no matter what I thought it might be, th

Though the mountains be shaken      and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken      nor my covenant of peace be removed,”      says the Lord , who has compassion on you. Isaiah 54:10 We build our mountains out of many things, don’t we? We build mountains out of careers, out of wealth, out of success, out of beauty, out of family. Carefully, we pour our effort into constructing these monuments to our human experience, ever higher, hoping the majesty we leave behind will inspire and make a lasting difference. This will be my legacy. This is evidence of a meaningful life. This will stand, unassailed.  But we are incorrect. This is a world of mirage. It turns out these mountains are closer to gossamer than stone, trailing through our grasping fingers. Nothing we build in this world is eternal. The unshakable can be shaken. The hills can unthinkably be removed without warning. It can happen in an instant. And as we crawl from the rubble of our misguided human

Jonah was a tradition super fan. Not only did he love all the long-established traditions in our family, but he loved declaring something a new tradition. In recent years, our new traditions began to include a Christmas movie each night in December, Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving on, binging the Great British Baking Show together, and subsequent Christmas baking projects with mom (cookies, treats, even a yule log - he had already been talking about doing that one again this year). We had traditions around the Christmas tree selection, the night we decorated the tree, when and how we decorated the house, what movies we watched and when, what music we listened to and when. He kept them. He insisted upon them. He loved them. His joy was a wave that swept through us all, carrying us through this season in such a state of gratitude and laughter and love.  And Christmas morning was the zenith of our family expression of Christmas tradition. Just the four of us, matching jamm