Christmas Eve was the raucous night.  Bottles of champagne, an Italian feast, and laughter that was loud and uninhibited.  At the last minute we decided to open all of the presents that night just because we could.  Because we were all grown ups, so who was there to stop us?  Deep down we all felt like wild, young bohemians, daring to break tradition.  By the end of the evening there were piles of paper, ribbons, boxes and tissue paper everywhere, enough so that I inadvertantly stepped on my friend’s foot trying to get to the couch, tripped, fell and spilled water all over the place.  It wasn’t because I had a well established champagne buzz, I swear.  But I will say I’m glad I spilled the water and not the champagne, as I had a glass of each in my hand when I stumbled.  I know my priorities.

Christmas evening was much more tame and Norman Rockwell-esque.  A dinner table with an empty roast platter, dirtied dishes, just one empty bottle of wine and a partially eaten gingerbread house, handmade by one of our six-year old guests.  She and her twin brother were taking turns giving the rest of us a piano recital.  At the table sat four women and two men, and anyone peeking in our window could have made all kinds of reasonable guesses as to how we were all connected and why we were together on this very special night.  Anyone peeking in our window would think we were a happy family with no cares in the world.  On this night, that was true.

As I looked around at this group of people, I could not help but marvel at the genuine joy and contentment.  That night, we were simply happy to be together, in this home, sharing a meal and celebrating Christmas.  I marveled at this because we are not a group that has journeyed through life unscathed.  If we made a collective laundry list of all our losses you, dear reader, would gasp in disbelief and sorrow.  We all have stories that seem too unimaginable to be true.  I do not say this for dramatic effect or to be morbid, but as a simple statement of truth to illustrate the beauty of this evening.  With all of these devastating memories, here we all were sharing this night and soaking up every minute of it.  Laughing at the kids.  Clapping for their piano performances.  Talking about upcoming birthdays and weddings.  Sharing our stories.  Opening our hearts.  Holding each other’s hands.  Eight people – each with their own unique wounds and emotional bruises – together on this night.  All of us feeling light, silly, festive and safe.

I do not think we all came together on Christmas wanting to focus on whatever pain we’ve thus far endured in life, but I do know that the holidays often bring up memories and emotions that can be difficult to manage.  I think all of us experienced a deep sense of soothing on this night and were able to let go of whatever had gone wrong or was going wrong in our lives and just have fun.  I believe we all went to bed feeling at least a little bit healed and a little bit softened.  Our togetherness created a warm cocoon that had room for everyone, and also provided a salve that went straight to our hearts.  The scars we’ve been walking around with diminished a bit, and our collective memory received a fresh batch of moments to be filed under GOOD.

Life can sometimes be unbearably difficult, but in between all the dark clouds there is still plenty of room for joy and goodness, laughter and calm.  Like the tiny sprout of a plant that I once saw push its way through a mesh screen window, joy will always find a way to burst through.  It is always present, wanting to grow and be noticed.  Last night, we all proved that no matter what we may experience, joy will always ultimately win if we let it run wild.  It would be easy to snip the plant as it makes its way through the screen to avoid it growing in the house, but where’s the fun in that?  Having a tiny plant growing through your window screen is much more interesting, intriguing and fun.  Last night we let joy run wild, and joy took over.  And for a few sweet moments, we were all healed.