Christmas

We introduced the big kids to hot cocoa this evening. They weren't sure at first and it was hard to figure out what kind of cup to serve it in but once we brought straws out they were big fans. Lily looked at me, then to the cup, then to her dad and said "Mm!"

Earlier we went out front in rain boots and pj's with jackets on top. I jumped into a big puddle in the driveway and the look on Lily's face was what I dreamed of when I imagined being a mother. She jumped right in and was so thrilled. The rain came down on us and the four of us explored the puddles and the wet grass and the wet cards.

After giving both big kids hot chocolate and a chocolate cookie I thought it would be better parenting to actually give them true sustenance so I started making some mac n cheese. (The food we feed our kids is actually really important to me though that is not apparent at all from the previous sentences. Or maybe it is. Food means many things and ceremony is definitely one of them.)

I started making the pasta and the kids stayed in their high chairs, getting a bit impatient but hanging tight for the most part. I asked my husband to put on some Christmas music, expecting to hear Jingle Bells or something. Out poured the strains of a song I didn't recognize. A church choir singing something about our savior being born. "This is a Christmas song?" I asked, before hearing the part about the savior.

The music filled the room and filled spaces in my heart. I love Christmas so much. Memories of driving through San Francisco when it was dark, seeing the big tree at the edge of Golden Gate Park lit up with long strands of lights like the bright shadow of a hot air balloon. Watching my mom and dad and sister brother open gifts. Waiting for my dad to get a cup of coffee so we could open stockings. And going to Mass, at midnight or earlier depending on how old we were and what church we were going to and so many other things.

I watched my first-born twins feed themselves, together as they almost always are. Looking up at me sometimes with their bright shiny heart-stopping faces. Being themselves, being little. Safe. Warm. Fed. Loved. I felt and feel so much joy.

Joy. That's not a word I use lightly or often. Listening to the churchy Christmas songs--Little Drummer Boy, Oh Holy Night, What Child is This, Silent Night. The voices are so filled with joy which to me is different than happiness. It is heavier, it aches a bit. It is full of gratitude. Blessedness. Awe.

I grew up Catholic and I'm not practicing now. I am one of those many people who has described herself as "spiritual but not that religious". When I was younger I didn't think about being Catholic. Church and CCD were part of what we did as a family. I spent most of the time in the Red Room baby-sitting the younger children and it's from way back then that I knew I wanted to be a mama. I didn't get confirmed because by then weekend soccer games had replaced going to Mass. I went to a Jesuit high school and then a Jesuit college and I just kind of forgot that not everyone was Catholic. Even though not everyone at those schools was Catholic, enough were that it just blended into the background and became an invisible choice. It just was.

For several years I've been missing something that I consider the spiritual aspect of my life. I haven't been sure I wanted to start going to church again but I could tell that something important was not being given the time and space it needed for me to feel full. I believe in God but it's not something that I think that much about or try to explain or defend. I don't ascribe to everything written in the Bible and I disagree with many of the stances of the Church, big "C". I love the new Pope and his words have beckoned me back more than once. And for sure being a mom has brought up questions about what I want to surround my children with.

The words and the music and the tone of the voices singing about Christmas wrapped me up and gave me a Christmas Carol kind of moment. Where I could stand back and look into this warmly lit kitchen at these two young children and imagine the joy at being told that a blessed child had been born. I think having that story as part of Christmas when I was growing up is part of why I love it so much.