The holiday season brings delights beyond measure, yet the hustle and bustle can leave one feeling in need of a moment’s rest. Like carolers donning layers of warmth before venturing into the snow, our readers share rituals of intentionality and self-care that envelop them in peace and joy during the closing months of the year.
My antidote to all the holiday hubbub is a quiet, solitary walk on Christmas Eve. Three city blocks from our home, there is a tiny church that hosts a contemplative candlelit service. Shortly before midnight, bundled up against winter’s chill, I step into the crisp night air. Within moments, I feel my pace slow, my shoulders relax, and my breathing deepen. I look about and take in the festive décor gracing my neighbors’ homes as well as glimpses of the warmth of friends and family members gathered inside. I gaze up at the stars, the same lights that have led and inspired generations of seekers like me. Certainly, the service I am attending will feed my soul, but I find that the journey to that destination—as well as the one that will lead me back home—is equally transformative.
KATHLEEN WOODS
San Francisco, California
I have my first-grade teacher, Sister Marcia, to thank for a holiday tradition that has kept me from becoming overwhelmed by the seemingly endless lists of tasks that the season requires. Sister Marcia called upon each of her high-energy six-year-olds to slow the pace by resolving to focus on one good deed a day during the weeks leading up to Christmas. We were instructed to record our acts of kindness on slips of paper and place the reminders in shoeboxes, which we carefully guarded in our bedrooms. When the long-awaited Christmas Eve arrived, we would place our shoeboxes beneath our festive trees and present our deeds to the Christ child. What a glorious way to mark the culmination of the season, and what a lesson in selflessness Sister Marcia provided.
MARIA GALLAGHER
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Hungering for a retreat from the busyness of life and the season’s festivities, one day I “took myself out for coffee,” you might say, and it was one of the most rejuvenating afternoons I’ve ever had. Sitting alone with my journal at a corner table, I listened to the sound of the steel steaming the milk and the soft chatter of the crowd. For once, I noticed the smell of the freshly brewed espresso and how the crisp air carried with it hints of maple and pine from the street below. The minutes slowed as I sipped from my mug and sat alone in my thoughts. Weaving this habit into my weekly routine, I learned that the cure to stress is intentionality—time to breathe and reflect.
ELISE LEONARD
Steubenville, Ohio
During the Advent season, I try to find more time for prayer and reflection through two simple activities: correspondence and cranberry bread. When I lived far from family, I would keep a set of Christmas cards and my address book next to the sofa and write one card and letter each night in December. I enjoyed sitting with a cup of coffee to contact friends and family. In recent years, I continue to write our cards at the kitchen table with my centenarian dad, who signs the cards from him or both of us and attaches stamps, address labels, and seals to close. To thank our many helpers—the library volunteer who delivers our books, the hairdresser who comes to cut my dad’s hair, and, most of all, my best friend and chauffeur (since Dad stopped driving at 98)—I bake loaves of my mother’s cranberry bread. Much like the card-writing, this task evokes memories of years gone by, warms my heart, and seems to slow a fast-moving world.
KATHLEEN O’RIELLY
West Newton, Massachusetts
When the hectic speed of holiday festivities overwhelms my senses, I sit down with Laurel Long’s illustrated Twelve Days of Christmas. In her marvelous oil paintings, she has hidden each gift over and over again. As I seek the partridge for the twelfth time, my breathing slows, my mind focuses, and my heart sings with the beauty of the season. While fleeting tasks may seem crucial in the moment, Long’s book reminds me that the purpose of gift-giving and merry-making lies in cherishing loved ones. It doesn’t take ten lords a-leaping to do that! I emerge from my seek-and-find journey comforted and content, eager to light upon glimmers of holiday joy.
MELODY SCHWARTING
Bolingbrook, Illinois
Music plays an important part of relaxation, but more so at holiday time. While trimming the tree and decorating, The Nutcracker Suite plays in the background. In between writing holiday cards, shopping, wrapping, and baking, popular holiday tunes envelop my busyness. In more reflective moments, Christmas carols set the tone for contemplation. Attending concerts brings family and friends together. Amid the hustle and bustle of the season, music offers a much-needed respite.
ANTONELLA KILKEARY
Scarsdale, New York
Like the beautiful folks memorialized on screen in Downton Abbey—enjoying their leisurely breakfast of the finest English feasting—my husband and I have made a Sunday ritual of enjoying what we call our “Lord Grantham Breakfast.” Plates brim with organic eggs on muffins, the finest bacon, and fresh fruit from our local market, all washed down with a lovely pot of Earl Grey tea. We always set the table with our gilt-edged 1930s Royal Doulton dinner service, Kings pattern flatware, and silver tea pot. Our heirloom linen from my husband’s grandmother takes pride of place, bringing it all together. There is nothing more pleasurable than listening to our morning jazz radio station while slowly indulging and saving the last small morsel for our little black cat, who is impatiently waiting at our feet for his own taste of the feast. Bliss!
JUDE REEVES
Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Australia
To see some of these letters printed in our pages, turn to “Winter Comforts” in the November/December 2024 issue, available on newsstands and at victoriamag.com.
