My very first post on the blog was about my struggle to provide the traditions and memories of Christmas for my family, without losing my mind.

Several years after that, I posted similar sentiments. We struggled to get a tree in a timely fashion, which meant we had to drive from tree farm to tree farm only to find all the U-cut trees sold out and the precut pickings slim. It was hard to get the holiday foods made. One year we never decorated the tree at all.

This summer I got TMS and blasted the depression out of my brain, although I hated every second of it. I’m pretty sure this is the first Christmas I haven’t been depressed in my entire adult life.

On our way home from visiting family for Thanksgiving, we stopped to pick out a tree. The same week as Thanksgiving! Let that sink in.

We accidentally picked a tree with a double trunk and after sawing for an eternity, we were told we could have it for free. It has two tops – one about a third of the way down – and is so charming and quirky that I’ll be sorry when it’s time to say goodbye.

There’s a tradition at our house: every year, our tree has a nest in it. This year, it was a nest of spiders for the first time. The situation is still unfolding and is both horrifying and very exciting. We have a spray bottle with half vinegar/half water for the late bloomers. Normally, I wouldn’t kill spiders, but the sheer numbers meant they had to be culled.

I think I successfully argued for not decorating the tree beyond lights because of all the kittens we’ve acquired this year. With just a few days till Christmas, the kids are still fighting me on it and the winner is TBD. Depressed or not, I hate decorating the tree. It is chaotic and stressful. Old, sentimental ornaments are involved. My kids have proven they are capable of taking something that has been perfectly functional for years and destroying it in minutes.

Not being depressed in the winter has been a game changer. I wake up and get out of bed in the morning instead of laying there as long as possible. I keep the house almost sort of clean. I occasionally even make dinner. I homeschool the kids, sometimes *while sewing.* I do more than one thing a day. I sometimes still take naps, but I no longer lay on the sofa for hours lacking the will to get up. I experience joy regularly, which in itself is miraculous.

I feel a little sad about all the previous years where Christmas was characterized by a paralyzing torpor, but I can’t undo it. I did ask for help many times, but it took this long and here we are.

Not being depressed doesn’t mean I don’t feel anxious or down. It’s been a really hard year for our family and I have cried buckets. But a light is shining in my spirit again after being dim for a very long time.

With everything that’s going on in the world right now, it’s difficult to think about celebrating. My heart is completely broken over what is happening in Palestine. I have never written so many letters or made so many phone calls to my representatives at every level of government in my life, from senators and congresspeople all the way up to the Department of Defense.

The kids know I am serious about boycotting companies investing in the Israeli State. Ever since my keffiyeh arrived, I have worn it around the house and every time I go out in public. I consider it an act of solidarity but also a reminder to pray.

Fighting the external battle for a ceasefire and this family battle for the safety and well-being of our kid is isolating. I know I’m not alone, but the silence and/or lack of helpfulness I’ve experienced on the other end of the phone during the many, many calls I’ve made in the past couple of months has been disheartening.

In between the many obfuscating and circular conversations I’ve had with unhelpful people, there have been occasional phone calls with an administrative assistant, a senate staffer, or a health care worker, who have listened to me, or gave me information when I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed, even when they didn’t have to help. Those calls have kept me afloat in a sea of apathy.

I don’t know what we have to look forward to in 2024. It’s difficult to feel hopeful – for a good resolution to our family troubles, for a ceasefire and a two state solution in the Middle East.

For the first time since high school, I fasted today. It was a living prayer for peace and freedom for Palestine.

Honestly, because of the stress in our house the past months, I haven’t eaten from breakfast until the after the kids go to bed most of the time for weeks, but today I was purposeful about it. No tea, no hot cocoa, no little snacks to keep my blood sugar at a functional level. Each time I felt hungry, I was praying.

I’m not sure what God in the world looks like anymore. It feels like a just and loving God wouldn’t allow a whole lot of what is happening right now, and yet this inhospitable world keeps on being inhospitable. It feels like if things were the way they ought to be, God’s people would speak out against injustice, but instead, there is silence.

We will have a small, quiet Christmas this year. Because we want to go back to Tobago, and because this year has been financially difficult as well as emotionally and physically and psychologically, our Christmas budget is tiny, and that is OK. There will be food, and there will be parang.

Maybe someday it will feel acceptable to write normal posts again about sewing and costuming, but I can’t behave normally when the world is so completely upside down.

I hope you find some comfort in this time of year, that somehow the darkness of the season will protect and cradle rather than smother. May your hearts stay tender, and may there be peace in the world.