Choosing Each Other

We just wrapped our final holiday event of the season. Can you hear me deeply exhaling? Yes, it can feel exhausting, but I love every minute of it. I am grateful that our home has become the hosting house where people come to laugh, share and gather. What a gift to have a space that holds everyone.

For our family the holiday’s don’t live inside a single day. It stretches out across a couple of months beginning in November and not ending until January. The celebration kicks off with Thanksgiving, then Thanksmus with my mom’s side of the family. Each year we have an ugly sweater cookie decorating contest that I look forward to and even won back in 20XX. Then there is the Christmas before Christmas with my brothers and their families, Christmas Eve with Dustin’s side, and finally one last gathering in January with my dad’s side. He is one of eleven which means a lot of people fill our home including aunts, uncles, cousins and all of my cousins’ kids which just keeps growing year after year.

It’s loud.
It’s chaotic.
It asks something of us.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When families are big, it’s easy to feel lost in the crowd. I definitely felt that when I was younger and unsure of myself. Easy to assume connection will just happen. Easy to wait for someone else to come find you, pull you in, make space. Easy to fade into the background.

But I’m learning that belonging doesn’t work that way.

We have to put ourselves out there.
We have to show up.
We have to find the touch points of connection.

A conversation in the kitchen, a moment on the couch, a laugh in the middle of the noise. We can’t expect others to do it for us. We need to open the door and walk in ourselves.

This year carried extra tenderness. We missed my Aunt Liz, as it was our first Christmas without her, and we felt the absence of my mom, who has been gone since 2015. Both of them loved the Christmas season and always told us how family is the most important thing. Grief was there and makes these gatherings heavier, but it also makes them more honest. It reminds me why choosing to show up matters so much.

Watching Emma move through these gatherings has been one of the greatest gifts. She’s an only child, yet she has stepped fully into the chaos. She calls everyone her “cousins”, even my cousin’s kids who she may only see a few times a year, because to her that is what they are. She talks about them with excitement. She counts down the days. She runs into rooms without hesitation. And I realize how rare and precious this kind of togetherness is.

Growing up my parents made sure to make time for us to get together with family. There were parties at the house. Sleepovers with my cousins. Getting together just because. Those memories live deep in my body. And to see that same joy forming for her, that sense of belonging, of being woven into something bigger, it feels like a quiet miracle.

It is also a reminder that we need to model this behavior to her and so we do. We invite people in. We tell them to make themselves at home. We let them know they can put their feet up on the coffee table, grab what they need from the fridge. We put our phones down and stay present. Through this Emma sees that connection isn’t accidental, it is practiced.

These gatherings matter. Not just for our children, but for all of us. For our own well-being. For our sense of belonging. For the quiet reminder that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

Showing up isn’t always easy. It can feel vulnerable. It can feel uncomfortable. But connection asks us to participate. To choose each other again and again, even when it’s messy. Even when there’s grief. Even when it would be easier to stay home. Because one day, these moments will be the memories and they will matter more than anything.

Leave a comment