ghosts of the past

Christmas is such a beautiful holiday, full of meaning and tradition. At least, that's how I picture it. Tonight at dinner, I was asked what traditions I grew up with. Interestingly, I had been thinking about that very question this morning. I answered as truthfully as I could: I don't know that I remember real traditions from my childhood. Instead I told about some of the things we did when the boys were small, but even then I wondered if they really count as traditions.
As a kid, I do remember watching Dad and my brothers putting lights on the pine tree in front of the house - or rather, I remember the year they tried, but it had gotten too tall for the ladder and amount of lights. I remember going with Dad to pick out a tree to cut down, and the time the tree had to wait in the garage for a few days because the stand needed to be rebuilt. And the year we had a Christmas Bush -  a cube of evergreen that overtook the room because it hadn't looked quite so big growing in the back yard.
Every year we had opłatki before dinner, but I didn't know where it came from. I think Grammy brought it. Gramma Katie always supplied a summer sausage. Dad always left a candle burning in the front window to welcome weary or wayward travelers. (If any had ever come to our door, I don't know what we would have done with them!)
What I remember most, though, and was never able to talk about (because who would believe me?) was my feeling that something was missing; that I was missing something. Who would ever believe that in our Christmas celebration, with boxes and paper and bows, something else could ever be needed? I realized this week that what I most wanted - what I still most crave - is time, along with a little knowledge of who I am. As a result, many of my memories of Christmases past are tinged with sadness, or tension. Sort of like a pebble in my soul's shoe. It has slowly and steadily chipped away at my Christmas spirit, until a few days ago when I thought perhaps it was gone form me completely.
Last night before Mass, I asked for the grace to be guided, to start fresh, as a baby myself. I thought of it as the beginning, my beginning. After Mass we ate, laughed, and visited with friends - family, really. Most of today we spent together with some good old-fashioned family time, and tonight we sat in on traditions of more friends who feel like family. The best part about this Christmas? It did not feel like anything at all was missing. There are people we missed, for sure, but the day felt complete.
Beautifully so.
Merry Christmas. Joy to the World!