I Learned to Write Christmas Cards...

Mom's voice on the line sounded concerned and slightly judgmental... "So, do you have a Christmas tree in your house?" With 2,000 miles between us I had the comfort of freedom to decorate knowing she wouldn't be stopping by unexpectedly. I had the freedom to try the things I'd been curious about. The Christmas Spirit always seemed to me so good at the heart of it, though from the platform and literature we were admonished that as true Christians we knew Jesus was not in the holiday - with its pagan roots and symbology - and we were so lucky to be unencumbered by the financial burden of obligatory gift-giving and the stress of holiday shopping. Yes, how lucky - even non-believers would tell us so as they sighed under the weight of their to-do lists and gift lists. 

A great distance from my Northeastern hometown along with the freedom of all new friends and my partner's non-religious family, I immersed myself in play - with all of life - and the holidays. My heart swelled at the prospect of finding a gift for my people. I took cues from those around me and learned how to wrap presents with ribbons and curls, using different wrapping paper and bows of different sizes and colors, so all the gifts didn't match but instead created a fun inviting picture. Each gift seemed to have a personality under the tree. Even wrapping paper with Santa himself! 

There was no Jesus in Christmas for my new friends in the Southwest. What a relief from the seriousness and overthinking that had weighed on me so heavily all these years! I had no idea how I felt about that dude at that point, and I was taking a break from him. Although I occasionally met the person who was a devout Christian who held the holiday with reverence in their heart, and I'd wonder why... since many knew the origins. They didn't care about that. They made it about Jesus - which I didn't realize you could do, but it started making sense to me.

I learned to write Christmas cards and tape a candy cane to the outside. I made candy-filled holiday mugs for my bosses. I dipped cherries with the stem in chocolate, then attached them to Hershey kisses to make church mice and brought them to potlucks. 

I felt joy. I received unexpected gifts and sparkly cards and loved each one - feeling the warmth of the energy from the person who thought of me and took the time to show this type of affection. 

I loved mindfully noticing the new people who made it onto our gift list that year, and the ones who dropped off - those acquaintances who seemed promising but then drifted - and those who had been in my life consistently through the past few years. 

I loved the reliability of the rituals of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I knew where we were going and who would be there, and eagerly imagined the look on their faces as they opened some of the gag gifts we always threw in there. 

Nervously and with my back up I said, "Yeah Mom, we do." I told her my partner put up the tree, trying to shift the blame onto him. 

Mom didn't freak, instead she told me a story... "When you were little we were passing one of those Santas' ringing the bell outside of a store and you said, 'Look Mommy! Santa Claus!' I said, 'Honey, you know we don't believe in Santa.' And you said, 'I don't believe in him, but I like him.'“

~Alyssa Martin