The little things

Leave me to my Christmas delusion

Seasoned greetings, friends. I hope you are able to tap into some holiday cheer and let the cacophony of political turmoil, human suffering, and ecological devastation die down to a low and pulsing thrum, if only for a moment. I am leaning hard into the Christmas delusion this year, by which I mean the hubbub that surrounds the Christmas season — lights, music, the tree, matching red cable-knit sweaters for my children. It’s the delusion I’ve been needing. Come January it’ll be bleak and cold and the US will return to Magamania 2.0, but for the next three weeks I intend to steep myself in cheer to the point of delirium — give me garland give me cedar give me a rum-soaked fruitcake (I’m looking at you Em), I want to dive into Christmas and emerge a glitter-soaked pinecone cupcake who is impervious to the bone-rattling tremors of doom. Pass the eggnog, please!

Like a squirrel fervently gathering nuts for winter, I’m over here gathering hope and goodwill for my fellow man. I’m looking for the best in people. I’m chatting with strangers on the playground. I’m giving others the benefit of the doubt. I’m refraining from flipping crappy drivers the bird. This is the true meaning of Christmas.

George in a rare moment of quiet reverence while beholding the Christmas tree

The Christmas spirit is not hard to come by in my family. Between Chris, who is a hardcore Yuletide merrymaker and without whom you can’t even spell CHRIStmas, and our absurdly silly little elf children, ringing sleigh bells while dancing around the room screaming like banshees, it would be impossible not to be inoculated with good cheer.

And yet —

2024 has been heavy. So many people in my community have been touched by loss, I don’t even know where to start. I know loss is one of the only constants in life, but it seems to have been more so the case this year. I and my family have gotten off relatively unscathed, though it has easily been the most strenuous year of my life so far. Kicking off the year in fresh postpartum with two children under three years, launching a new family business with very little capital, hustling ceaselessly and hosting monthly concerts with very meager resources, navigating house repairs and insurance claims and medical debts and our children’s rapid and often intense physical and emotional growth and trying to maintain a semblance of creative life and spiritual practice and god forbid Chris and I get any one-on-one time without the kids where we aren’t meant to be working - phew, I’ve wondered not a few times what the hell we were thinking, thinking we could pull it all off. But as my friend Katie has said, we’re gonna be stacked and exhausted and overwhelmed no matter what, so we might as well be working on the things we want in life. And it’s funny, for all these external pursuits and for all the external demands placed upon us to keep our little life in order, there’s a very simple objective at their core, a desire for community, and continuity, and a sense of home. That’s all. To feel rooted and needed and a part of something bigger than ourselves. I try to keep this in mind when it all feels too big, when I want to smash my phone with a hammer and fling the door wide to go join the coyotes and run yipping into the night, that the objective is simple and attainable and good, and worth the struggle.

Thank you, friends, for allowing me into your inbox every few weeks and reading these messy bits of life I have to share. In a time where media is so overwhelmingly present, it means a lot that you engage with my little dollop of textual fodder. I hope this season brings you joy, or at least respite, and a hot cup of something good.

To conclude, here is a brief and incomplete list of things I enjoy during the Christmas season:

1. Cutting materials for and making wreaths, whether they turn out pretty or not

2. Watching the delightfully and unintentionally campy film Mr Christmas, shot right here in Eureka Springs

3. Taking my kids to the Christmas parade

4. Hearing my son say “Christmas tree” for the first time

5. Lindt chocolate truffles

6. Gathering items to fill in my famoly’s Christmas stockings

7. The Charlie Brown Christmas album

8. Millie’s upcoming first birthday

9. Burning cedar and lighting candles in the window at nightfall

10. Baking orange slices and stringing them all over the house, knowing full well I won’t take them down for another six months until the ants make their annual pilgrimage across the floor and up the wall to eat them bit by bit

11. Watching Chris’s favorite classics, namely Meet Me in St Louis and The Bishop’s Wife

12. Writing letters (emails) to faraway friends wishing them good health in the new year

13. Getting a new planner and copying everyone’s birthdays and jotting down the full moon calendar for good measure

14. Listening to the polyphonic Christmas carols contained within the cheap plastic carousel we bought the kids from Walmart

15. Not worrying about the fact that I haven’t made any homemade gifts for folks this year, and likely won’t

16. Dancing to Christmas music in the kitchen

17. Watching Gremlins with George and seeing his excitement and fascination with the Mogwais’ rapid descent into utter mayhem — he calls them “Yuck memnins”

18. and last but not least, the pristine jar of Nutella that will be in my stocking Christmas morning, which I will heartily gorge upon by the spoonful in the week leading up to the new year.

The magic is in the little things.

Millie’s first taste of hot cocoa - oh, the ecstasy!!

Until the next,

Ginny