christmas 2022
It baffles my mind that the first month of the year has already flown by. It's been over a month since we've been back in our beloved #203 after a pair of weeks in Montreal with my family for Christmas. What a wondrous time we shared! As our plane landed in Vancouver earlier today, Paul and I agreed we'd cherish this Christmas for years to come. It was simple and sweet and nothing short of holy.
I am always a bit teary after goodbyes with mom, dad and my sister (and the whole of my community in Montreal, really). To be honest, the ache of parting with them doesn't really get much easier--even nearly three years (THREE YEARS!) since my move to Vancouver. At the same time, I'm also grateful to be back in our little home, and eager to step back into our usual routines and life in this city we love.
Our celebrations began just a breath before Advent, when we picked out our Christmas tree. We'd just started feeling a buzz of Christmas in the air, and though we attempted to hold off as long as we could, we succumbed and began making #203 (our apartment) merry and ready for Christmastide pretty early this year. To be honest, I wonder if this was wise. Since we knew we were leaving around December 22nd, we wanted to enjoy our fir tree as long as possible. . .But from a strictly liturgical perspective, I see the value in waiting for the latter days of Advent to deck our halls, and sticking with the candles of the Advent wreath alone. Our culture tends to tell us to fill November and December to the brim, and I quite like the idea of fully savoring the Advent season--pressing into the darkness, the waiting and longing. I'd go so far as to say I think the light of the season would shine all the brighter if preceded with a longer period of anticipation beforehand.
All that being said, we did go to a local tree lot in late November and picked the noble fir that would grace our living room until Epiphany, on January 6. Proceeds from the particular urban tree farm we visited help support local foster youth and single mamas. I found this so beautiful. In the midst of all the noise to consume! buy! celebrate! be extravagant! . . .I love (and laud) the communal sense of intention, generosity and care wrapped up in the Christmas season. This year I was reminded of the many opportunities to bring beauty and good to our home, neighborhood and city in the holy days of Advent. It makes me hum the carol's evergreen words, "peace on earth, goodwill to men."
With #203 officially merry and ready for Christmas, we began our set of twelve dates of Christmas--a tradition I've come to love deeply since our long distance days (read here) and our first married Christmas (read here).
This year, for the 12 dates of Christmas, we:
1. Picked our tree, donned festive sweaters, spun holiday records, and decked our halls.
2. Spent an evening at the German Christmas market with cousins--a veritable feast for the senses with plentiful German carols, local vendors and various options of traditional fare--hot chocolate, gluehwein, pretzels, currywurst. . .It brought us back to the first Christmastide we spent together in Germany, as friends with a blooming crush.
3. Split holiday donuts at Lucky's: gingerbread old fashioned, black forest and candy cane old fashioned. There were many more festive flavors offered in following weeks. . . but a certain level of restraint was needed (this was no small feat--they're around the corner from our place for crying out loud!)
4. Wore our wool and velvety best and dined over hibachi and then saw Handel's Messiah at the Orpheum. Oh my heart. What beauty! What a powerful way to tell the Christian story.
5. Watched the 1993 version of Little Women at home one afternoon (I tell you, these dates don't have to be fancy at all!). I won't name any names, but *someone* had never seen the movie, so we promptly dealt with that problem and named it a date. And oh, it really is my Christmas soundtrack of dreams.
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6. Prepared a fondue board with our small group. So fun!
7. Savored a staycation in the city with Paul's parents--they treated us to a night at the Hotel Vancouver, and it was lavish fun. There's nothing like downtown in the yuletide season--and we loved the hotel lobby full of creative Christmas trees!
8. Spent a Sunday afternoon sipping wine and listening to jazz at Fabrique St George. What a unique space--and the most amazing trio filled our ears with achingly good music with the saxophone, double bass and piano. That night, we enjoyed charcuterie and eggnog martinis.
9. Explored Deep Cove one December morning--what a beautiful pocket of North Vancouver!
10. Decorated sugar cookies together, and later distributed boxes full of assorted Christmas cookies to our neighbors. (more on that below)
11. Set a mattress in our living room, by the glow of the Christmas tree, and watched The Family Stone (forever and always, my favorite) before we drifted off to sleep.
12. Walked through the beautiful Festival of Lights at the VanDusen Botanical Gardens. When wintry days arrive, the garden grounds are enveloped in millions of colorful lights for the Christmas season. It was pure magic.
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To go back to point number ten--that is, the sharing of Christmas cookies with all the tenants in our building--I have to say this was a highlight of the season for me. This year, I made eight different kinds of cookies, and what fun it was!
- Orange and chocolate shortbread
- Chocolate crinkle cookies
- Snickerdoodles
- Peppermint chocolate thins
- "Snowball" Russian tea cakes
- Ginger molasses cookies (my dear friend Bethany's recipe was a hit!)
- Linzer cookies with raspberry jam, also called German 'spitzbuben' (made with my sweet mother-in-law)
- Sugar cookies
It was a tiring, albeit wondrous, affair. And the messy merry-making is really always worth it when I see the joy on the recipients' faces!
I have many fond memories of baking cookies with my mama as a little girl comes Christmastime, and of my parents hosting a gathering for all the neighbors on our block in December. Though our space is far too small to host that many people, delivering cookies felt like a sweet nod to these traditions. We'd done this last year and it had seemingly touched them. Now that we've cultivate a bit more of a friendly relationship with our neighbors this past year, it felt all the more appropriate to continue the tradition. There really are so many lovely ways to make the short days of December a little brighter for others--and this year, perhaps more than ever, I recognized the real ache and suffering wrapped up in the Christmas season for so many. I'm not saying a tin of Christmas cookies can heal all things, but it's such an easy way to communicate what all of us need to hear: I care.
Too, the holidays seem to be a time when there are more "points of entry" to really connect with acquaintances and those with whom you share a postal code. People let their guards down, and openness to random acts of mercy and generosity soars. I love that about Christmas.
Another lovely memory was our small group's decision to sponsor hampers for marginalized youth in Vancouver. We'd set off to fill up one hamper with canned goods and goodies, and our little group was so wondrously generous--we were able to sponsor another one! I'm really grateful for that experience we shared as a small community doing life together in the city.
On our last weekend in town, we enjoyed a big German Christmas with Paul's family. It was so wonderful--there's something quite cozy about Christmas fare and traditions from that part of the world, wouldn't you agree? 'Twas a lovely evening full of laughter, bratwurst and stollen!
A big winter storm hit Vancouver just days before our departure to Quebec. The awful road conditions certainly messed with some of our yuletide plans. Christmas parties were cancelled, which was rather heartbreaking, but we nestled up inside and enjoyed time together in our humble abode before setting sail to Montreal! We were ever so fortunate to fly out in the window between big storms--our flights, unlike that of thousands of Canadians travelling over Christmas, were wholly unaffected by the weather. We felt unspeakably blessed!
We made it to my parents' on the eve of December 22nd. It was so good to be home. Mom sure knows her way around Christmastime, and the house was full of beautiful decorations, gifts tucked under the tree, and homemade cookies for the sharing.
On Christmas Eve, we dressed up and drove into the city. As per our family tradition, we attended a service at a beautiful Presbyterian church downtown. We sang hymns, remembered the Christmas story and even closed the service with a musical piece on bagpipe! It was all very regal and moving.
Little tangent here. I don't know what it is--probably my personal worship style, and a bit of nostalgia, too--but I find more 'reverent' church traditions really poignant and meaningful, especially at Christmas. Throughout my life, my homes churches have generally observed modern evangelical liturgies, often designed to stir emotions and kindle excitement. Is that fair to say? I hope I don't offend anyone by suggesting this. But I really am touched (and brought to tears!) by "high church" styles of worship with a prescribed liturgy. Of course, as I say, I feel most at home in church services that emphasize a bit more spontaneity and personal faith--but I really am taken by the rich emphasis on sacraments, sacred actions, biblical imagery and symbols that I find in other traditions. And this Christmas Eve service was a fitting example.
As I took in the sanctuary, the prayers and the hymns, I was reminded that my faith ought to be God-centered rather than me-centered, I contemplated the collective nature of this faith, I was united with the historic roots of Christianity, and I was invited to embody the church calendar. When liturgies are rooted in the Christian calendar, we are beautifully reminded that we don't just belong to real time and space, but to a Greater, Holy Story--and to eternity. That's powerful to me. In sum, I'd say this: I was able to savor outward, tangible examples of inward, spiritual realities. And I love that. It builds my faith. Listen, I love the charismatic nature of my church's worship. I do. But I think there's space for both. And I'm glad our Christmas Eve service was marked by a sacramental tradition. End of tangent.
The next twenty-four hours were everything I've known Debanne Christmasses to be: Christmas Eve charcuterie, opening one present each (always festive pajamas--this year's were 'Habs' themed, how appropriate!), reading the words of Luke 2 about the coming of the Christ-child--praying together and setting our hearts on the story of light breaking into the darkness, the siblings sleeping under the tree (I always cherish the late night giggles and the unmatched anticipation!), the wonder of a snowy Christmas morning, warm drinks and stockings opened slowly, a brunch before all the gift opening (monkey bread is a perennial favorite), slow hours of showering each other in really thoughtful presents, resting in the afternoon, calling Paul's family scattered all over, a wintry walk (I do love sneaking a kiss with Paul under snowfall--there's something so romantic about it!), a decadent turkey dinner (a collaborative effort, but always spearheaded by my mama!), sharing our Christmas meal with a beloved woman from my parents' church, Dad playing carols on the piano, a late night holiday movie, moments spent in worship of the coming King. It was really a Christmas to remember.
By Boxing day, we were on our merry way to Ottawa to visit my grandparents and extended family--and what fun we had walking around and exploring the city (the Glebe, walks by the canal, Parliament hill...) and reveling in togetherness with our little clan! A particularly sweet moment was sitting in my aunt's living room, cozied up by a fire crackling in the hearth--Paul asking my Grand-Papa about his years in Texas, Nana chatting about books with my mom and sister, cousins playing a board game, and my dear uncle playing the accordion, such lovely music filling the room and charming us all. It was magic.
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On New Year's Eve, we enjoyed a night in--which, to be honest, is my favorite way to usher in a new year. We looked back at 2022 in awe and gratitude, delighted in a raclette feast, savored figgy pudding made by Paul (after years of singing about it in "We wish you a merry Christmas!" he thought we ought to try some!), we sipped cranberry gin cocktails, watched the ball drop (honestly, I don't understand that tradition at all...) and celebrated all that was the past year while also sharing our earnest hopes and aspirations for 2023.
As I write this now, I am deeply glad for all that 2022 held for us. I think of all the joy in our little home, the ongoing excitement we feel about life in the city. I think of pastoring our small group at church, boys' night and girls' night, Paul's job change and personal growth through my job, too. I think of our road trip to the Carolinas, our time in Portland in August, celebrating our first anniversary at Manoir Hovey, the birth of our sweet niece Ellie, our cottage vacation in the Eastern Townships, exploring the Gulf Islands over long weekends, my work trip to Calgary. I think of brunches with Paul's parents, Lau's visit over Labor Day weekend, many of dear friends getting married, celebrating our birthdays with our friends. I think of finishing reading through the whole Bible, long walks in our neighborhood and so many meals made and shared around our table. There were low points and heartaches in 2022--there always are. But God was so gracious to us in 2022. And our Christmastime in Montreal was a beautiful way to end the year. We're thankful.
I really love the feeling of crisp new calendar pages. They're so full of possibility, hope and prayers. We have wonderful wonderful things ahead in 2023, and I pray we look back at this upcoming year fondly, too. May it be marked by God's nearness and our willing submission to His loving shepherding; by deepened community and friendships; by open hands and fervent prayers and shared meals and countless adventures, together.
We tearfully parted ways with my family and got back to Vancouver, grateful and refreshed. Suitcases are finally unpacked (why am I such a procrastinator when it comes to packing and unpacking luggage?) and our incredibly dry Christmas tree was soon lofted onto the curb.
I'll remember this Christmas in countless ways. Velvet ribbon and tartan paper, dried oranges and mulled wine, pine boughs and holly. Charlie Brown and Sufjan Stevens on glorious repeat. Heavy stockings, Christmas cookies. a chorus of voices singing of angels and a manger and that holy night. Feasts and good conversation. Advent readings week by week—awed, once more, by incarnate love, the dawn of salvation, the coming of our King. Hymns sung around a piano. Doing most everything by candlelight and the warm glow of the tree. A snow-laden world beyond the window. Suitcases full of presents. Togetherness with those I love. Savoring our Savior as we celebrated His birth.
I hope this Christmas was soft and sweet and good for you, too. But whether it was marked by much glee or much heartache--I do pray the coming months are the best yet. May 2023 be full of sweetness, brimming with moments of soul-deep joy. It might be a bit late for me to say this, but oh well. . .
. . .happy new year, from our home to yours!
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