The Lights on the Tree
on Christmas traditions and a lack of traditions || November newsletter
Rhett runs through the kitchen, tossing crumpled papers onto the counter. I shuffle through the math worksheets and drawings and find a letter from his music teacher about the upcoming Christmas program. In the letter, she outlines the outfits each grade level needs to wear for the performance. My kindergartener is supposed to wear dress clothes. But my second grader is expected to wear an all-green or all-red outfit—neither of which he has.
I grab my phone and add this to my growing list of holiday to-dos. In addition to our family to shop for, there are friends, two teachers, and the bus driver. And I haven’t ordered our Christmas cards yet. The realization that December is right around the corner sends me spiraling with all I still have to do. Despite the never-ending list of tasks, I feel a nagging to do more—to make sure I’m creating enough memories and traditions for my kids.
I glance at the calendar, knowing I won’t see a planned night to look at Christmas lights with hot chocolate as a family. We don’t do Elf on the Shelf. And we don’t have a special movie we watch while putting up the tree. We start a new Advent devotional each year but rarely finish it by Christmas. And every year, we leave a different kind of cookie out on Christmas Eve. Our kids are 8, 6, and 2; shouldn’t we have more traditions by now?
The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Rich drags the fake tree up from the basement. The kids pull out the handmade and store-bought ornaments while I sit back, letting them fill the bottom half of the tree. They dig through the box, asking questions about each one. Once they hang the last ornament, I gently pull out the stockings my mom made. Holding mine up, I say, “This one is almost 38 years old! Can you believe that?” Their eyes widen, and we talk about how old their stockings are.
That evening, after everyone is asleep, I tiptoe into the living room. One of the things I love about the tree is the quiet mornings and evenings when I can catch my breath from the holiday chaos in the warm glow of its lights.
Out of a habit since childhood, I take off my glasses, watching the lights change in front of me. With my vision no longer corrected, the tiny lights become round balls. Their edges overlap, the glow taking over the whole tree.
In the coming weeks, we might see Santa, and we might make an impromptu drive to look at Christmas lights. There will likely be new holiday activities we try this year—things we may carry over to next Christmas. Or maybe we won’t.
Even though each year looks a little different, I know our family is creating traditions—without me planning them or checking them off a list.
Years from now, I imagine all the holiday memories strung together like the lights on a tree—glowing from the warmth of hundreds of lights melded together, not from one single bulb.
*This essay originally appeared on The Mom Hour podcast.
Farm Happenings
This time of year is quiet and slow. The romanticized and exciting seasons—harvest and seeding—are behind us, and calving is ahead. There is still important and necessary shop work and equipment repair, so when it’s “go” time in the spring, everything will be ready. The work done now is necessary, although not glamorous. (Like so many parts of life, right?)
The cows are all home from summer pasture, their bellies full of babies. The ranch crew feeds them each morning and keeps them moving from pasture to pasture.
This time of year makes for some of the best sunrises and sunsets. (I guess I can’t get completely away from the romantic views of this life. And honestly, I don’t want to stop chasing sunrises and sunsets.)
Up next: more shop work, feeding the cattle, and preparing the barn for calving.
Lately, I’m . . .
Reading: Night by Elie Wiesel (I don’t know how/why1 I haven’t read this yet, but everyone should read it), Class: A Memoir (I have many thoughts on this book. Land is a great writer, but I struggled with some parts of her story. I did love that her memoir takes place in Montana), Congratulations, Who Are You Again? (which was hilarious but also made me somewhat depressed about the realities of writing a book), I listened to a short but fun book to tide me over until the next book in the series, Veronica Ruiz Breaks the Bank (book #3.5 in the series), and I’ve been on a juvenile fiction kick (thanks to my friend,
) and in less than a week, I read Because of Winn-Dixie, Raymie Nightingale, and Louisiana’s Way Home.Watching: Lessons in Chemistry on Apple TV. I read the book last year and liked it (but didn’t love it), and I’m enjoying the series more than I expected.
Cooking: this buffalo chicken dip for a football game. Tailgate food in a crock pot is cooking, right? I made this dip all the time for football games, pre-married life, and I was sort of “known” for this dip. (I suppose there are worse things to be known for.) I brought it back earlier this month when we went to a friend’s house to watch a football game.
Baking: these s’more brownies that are to die for.
Singing: along to this song about growing up alongside our kids, and it gets me in all the feels.
Listening: to this episode, “Raising the Level of Respect in Your Home,” is well worth the listen. This replay episode, “How to Get Real and Savor More with Shauna Niequist,” met me right where I am today (even though the episode originally aired several years ago).
Sharing: an essay about a decade of marriage, Four Walks for 10 Years, that I wrote for another Substack, and a short reflection on IG.
Buying: this lipstick. I’ve wanted to wear a bold lip color, and this one claims (the lady at the store told me) it won’t dry my lips out. TBD.
Hi friends.
I wasn’t sure I would send out a newsletter this month. Last month’s snake story fell into my lap, and I couldn’t not write about it. But, in being vulnerable, every very few months, I fall into a spiral about writing. Should I keep writing? Should I change the name of my Substack? (Yes, I want to, but I can’t decide on a new name.) Will I ever be content with where I’m at as a writer?
These thoughts, coupled with how transactional social media can feel (trading likes, comments, and shares for likes, comments, and shares) and not wanting to make Reels or post every day (even though “they” say this is how you grow an audience. And an audience is needed to get a publisher for my imaginary book).
I could go on. (But I won’t, and I apologize in advance if this sounds whiny, and I know I’m just one in a million writers online. But maybe some of you can relate.) So, I sat in my feelings, journaling a lot, but not feeling like anything was for public consumption. And then I remembered this story I wrote and recorded last year for The Mom Hour and felt many of those feelings again. So, here we are.
I hope your Christmas season is full of old and new traditions and time spent with family—celebrating the birth of our Savior.
Until next time,
Stacy
Okay, I know why; I knew it would be a hard book to read.
Ok, I have never heard that Gabby Barrett song, but man, it got to me!
I love your writing and am always glad to see your name in my inbox, but I totally understand your angst. Everything feels so complicated, and I get so wrapped up in analyzing everything I'm doing, but at the end of the day, I keep coming back to one thing: I just want to WRITE. So that's what I'm going to do. It may never amount to much, but I am obeying that voice in my head that won't be quiet about my need to get the words out. I wish we lived near each other so we could just sit and talk about all of this!
Also, that sunset pic is so dreamy.
I am going to take my glasses off at night now to look at the tree. What a powerful image and practice!