Decking the Halls

My family has enjoyed a long tradition of decorating for Christmas the minute the leftover Turkey is put in the fridge. On the farm in Kansas, this meant a trek to the tree farm or the pasture to "top off" a tree leaving the evergreen to continue living and growing while providing us with plenty of pine to wedge into the house. The Dunback Christmas tree tends to take over the living room and allows plenty of space beneath for us to wiggle under and stare up at boughs twinkling with lights, hung with ornaments fragile with age and strong with memories. As kids, my brother and I would sit with mom and dad nightly before bed, stringing ropes of popcorn and cranberries or simply rehashing the events of the day, enjoying our sentimental holiday trappings for the entirety of December until our spindly fire-hazard of a tree greeted the New Year dripping dry needles but having been completely and thoroughly loved.

After a surprisingly holiday-ish weekend in Haiti, I have felt inspired to continue in the Dunback tradition of decking the walls and halls of our little home, commencing in traditions nurtured by our own little family. This will be our first Christmas with Solomon so I am more excited than ever to prepare our home and hearts for Christmas, creating a magical, spiritual space for my little boy to enjoy. This year we will pull in many of our favorite of family traditions as well as adding a touch of new (and tropical!). I look forward to watching our own family's traditions evolve through time, coloring Solomon's life, creating warm happy memories, linking holidays over the years with the familiar rituals and celebrations of the season, no matter where we call home.

Last night, I pulled out a little box of Christmas decorations we had in the closet from last year. I hung a string of lights around our balcony, and strung two of our more sturdy plants together to serve as our current Christmas tree(s). I have a deep love and appreciation for Christmas lights, how they gently illuminate the darkness with soft, glowing color, instantly sparking so many memories, and filling me with happiness.

I had a moment of sentimentality opening my little box of Christmas decorations, remembering last year in our guesthouse room as we fought suffocating feelings of loneliness and homesickness, debating whether our lack of invitations to holiday celebrations was because it just wasn't done or because we weren't fitting in. This year, after a holiday weekend that departed from traditions of home, but was happily celebrated with new friends and people who are starting to feel like our Haitian family, I had to smile and give up a word of thanks. I'm thankful that the holidays aren't going to be as hard this year, thankful that Patrick is with his family now and I, too, will be with my family soon. I'm thankful for a home to make festive and my own little family to celebrate with as well as friends here who can help create new moments of holiday fun.

The actual event of decorating for Christmas is as meaningful to me as the finished product. Every year memories are sparked with each ornament or card unwrapped. Last night I pulled out tiny ornaments that Patrick had bought last year as a "cheer-up" surprise from a local minimart--- pine cones, plastic candy canes and tiny wrapped packages. Although not Hallmark quality, they remind me of a husband who was determined to give his mopey wife some holiday cheer. On more sturdy branches of the plants, I hung the Christmas balls and snowmen ornaments that arrived last year in holiday care packages from our moms. The tinsel that had created our abstract art Christmas tree in the guest house room now decorates a large leafy plant. ;) The manger scene bought from the vendors outside the guesthouse sits on the bookshelf, ready to be lit with candles each night when darkness falls.

Last, I pulled out carefully folded white paper snowflakes and smiled remembering sitting at a table in the guest house with Sivie and a 9-year-old girl also living there while waiting for her adoption papers to clear. We had all made snowflakes together to decorate our rooms and to chase away the sadness of not being with our families. That will always be one of my favorite memories of Silvie. That night we talked with tears in our eyes, sang with determination to get our spirits jump started, and snipped, clipped and designed a table full of snowflakes that would refuse to melt despite the tropical heat. And here they were, triggering a flood of memories of our first Christmas in Haiti.

Solomon and I snuggled on the porch last night, in a bath of colorful, twinkling light, feeling the cool night breeze kiss our skin. I trust that we'll enjoy repeating this ritual of ending the days on the balcony, sleepily enjoying the lights of Christmas that invite reflection, spark memories, and nurture simple happiness with quiet, cozy time in the presence of ones you love.

After Solomon was tucked in and I was getting ready to take a book to bed, my brother and his family Skyped. They had gotten their Christmas tree and wanted to share with me the beginning of its decoration. I was thrilled, and showed them what my own holiday spirit had produced. Conor bounced around the living room in his red onesie pajamas and Caden stood next to Chris's knee clearly intrigued by all the re-decorating going on. My brother gave me a tour of his exterior lighting that rivaled Clark Griswald's work in all its grandeur. Candy giggled with me at my own creative Christmas bush. I was nothing but smiles sharing a holiday tradition together despite the miles and ocean that separates us. Christmas magic indeed.

I woke in the middle of the night to thunderstorms rumbling, bringing an unseasonably cool air breezing through the windows. Much to my delight, this morning remains unusually cool thanks to an overcast morning and a lingering dampness in the air that has not yet turned to steam. Today Sol and I are going to stay close to home, enjoying some one-on-one time together. We'll cut more snowflakes and stars (Sol taking a largely supervisory role), maybe fashion an angel to be heard on high, and dance to Christmas music. I'd say I'd make hot chocolate or something to celebrate this "cold" Haitian day (probably 70's???), but I see that the clouds are already giving way to blue, so better sip my coffee, appreciating the one morning it doesn't make me sweat. :) Tonight I plan on popping some popcorn over the stove, and finish the day with a movie night feature of The Polar Express (thanks to a sentimental brother sharing his family traditions with us via care package).

Fa lala lala--lala la la.