An Honest Holiday Letter 2025
As we close out 2025 and ready ourselves for the New Year, here’s some brief, candid reflections from my family to yours. Let’s make a toast and cheers to another year of God’s honest truth.
Justice (10 years old)
Discovered carrying several glass jars of miniature jams and jellies he nabbed from the hotel breakfast buffet while we were hiking on our Yosemite vacation this summer. It’s a wonder he wasn’t mauled by wild predatory animals, but I assume the loud clanging coming from his pants pockets warded them off.
Approaches every new feat, however impractical, with complete confidence that he can and WILL set a new Guiness World Record. For his latest attempt he’s clocking dozens of hours squatting on his hoverboard and maneuvering around the patio while simultaneously measuring the distance he covers with a tape measure. “Logs” his distance on a sheet of scrap paper and then forgets where he left it. This is ADHD at its finest.
Convinced every flora, fauna or bird he sees and does not immediately recognize must mean he’s discovered a new species.
Attended Blue Man Group during our visit to Las Vegas and has never felt so seen. Between the splatter paint, strobe lights, tossing of cereal, streamers of toilet paper, and bizarre music, we all agreed it felt like being inside Justice’s brain for ninety minutes straight.
Traded his taekwondo uniform in for jazz shoes and has never felt more alive. Creates his own choreography to go with the song he has for literally every situation. Known to belt Broadway musical show tunes into his karaoke machine at all hours of the day. We are all ensemble members in the great and glorious musical Justice calls life.
Providence (14 years old)
Poster child for overthinkers everywhere. Clocks the nearest emergency exit and fire escape route at every event we attend. Owns a daily calendar of worst case scenario survival skills, tears off one each day, saves them and studies them. Loves helping me cook but insists on standing a full two feet from the gas stove. Was nervous about incurring an injury while ice skating for the first time; anxiety increased when she noted the close proximity of the first aid tent to the ice rink and the signage declaring the rink was sponsored by Kaiser Permanente Medical. Finds it impossible to enjoy things like Cirque de Soleil shows because she’s too busy assessing the physical risk to the performers and wondering if they receive hazard pay. We roll our eyes now, but when the apocalypse hits and she rolls out her survival plan and opens the panic room she’s makeshifted behind a false wall in her closet, we will nominate her as our leader and praise God for her over preparedness.
Clocks more volunteer hours than our entire pastor’s family combined. Over-achieving her personal goal of getting 95% or higher in all her classes by achieving over 100% without breaking a sweat. Beloved and admired by her circle of friends and teachers. Heartbreakingly beautiful. On point fashion sense. Pursues Jesus every day. Brings friends to church every week. Leads with humility, generosity and grace. Basically makes it difficult for the rest of us to look at her directly, her halo shines so bright. It’s tough living in her shadow, but where she excels in academia, faith and attitude, she severely lacks in common sense, efficiency, and emotional stability. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
Does not have eyes for any of the “unwashed” boys at her school and has been known to yell, “READ A BOOK!” to the pods of boys dropping cuss words like confetti in the hallways. Her appetite for books is only outmatched by her actual appetite. Reads through books almost as quickly as she eats through the contents of our refrigerator, yet remains a size extra-small.
Seriously crushing on a close friend from church who has yet to pick up on her feelings. It isn’t uncommon to pick her up from youth group only to hear her say, “I’m living in a Taylor Swift song… the early albums.”
Zach (let’s just say, mid-life)
Hit a milestone birthday recently and made a series of odd requests that had me questioning his mental state. The man who is perpetually cold and resounds doom and gloom all winter long, chose to take us all ice skating for his special day. Asked for two gifts and two gifts only: a pet tortoise and a ukulele. I’m not sure where either of these ideas came from other than perhaps the list of mid-life crisis symptoms on WebMD. Zach and desert tortoises have a few things in common, not the least of which is that they are sun worshippers and require solar lamps in the colder months. Which has me wondering- is the tortoise a metaphor? Is Zach the tortoise? It’s a puzzle I’ll never bother solving because, as you may you have guessed, I did NOT buy him a tortoise. I opted to give him the ukulele as it doesn’t have an average lifespan of 80 years and will not need to be bequeathed in our will. How will a man in his mid-forties with absolutely zero musical experience fair as a ukulelist? Only time will tell. This is a dream my husband has had for five whole minutes. We have a trip to Maui on the calendar in mid-February and we are all expecting a recital. I fully intend to get my money’s worth.
Ran a half-marathon for the first time last fall, bested his personal time and once he checked it off his bucket list saw no need to run again. I’m pretty positive this “achieve then quit” strategy is not advertised on his life coaching business website, but who I am to question a pro?
Coached both Prov’s volleyball and flag football teams this year. Enjoyed one but not the other. Discovered smiling on the field is his subconscious coping mechanism, so the parents on the sidelines think he’s Mr. Positive when really he’s stifling his inner Jon Gruden.
Continues to faithfully love God and love people well, pastoring others, coaching clients and leading our family to the awe and inspiration of us all. The number of unread text messages and emails he walks around with every day does not, apparently, have any bearing on his success and I will never, ever understand this.
Anne (also mid-life, but not AS mid-life as Zach)
Writing this letter while guzzling a Diet Coke from a not-so-quiet booth in Chic-Fil-A, donning leggings covered in dog hair, sherpa lined slippers, and a messy bun filled with grey hairs that scream, ‘I’ve given up on hair dye at the expense of the rising grocery prices.’
Did NOT run a marathon like my husband, but did download a walking app and set an unreasonably high step count goal for myself, so the time I spent hitting the pavement is basically the same.
Shockingly still considered cool by my teen and tween who never seem to mind me chaperoning, volunteering or driving their friends around. Not sure how I became the favorite parent when Zach has long since held the title of “the fun one.” Must have something to do with the kids being old enough understand sarcasm because it’s certainly not my wardrobe.
Unapologetic coffee addict, going on twenty years now. When my coffee maker was on the fritz last spring the kids began Googling rehab centers. The lure of my new Nespresso machine (aptly named Glinda for her golden color) draws me from bed like a moth to a flame. Glinda greets me every morning in the dark kitchen like a drug dealer in the alleyways of a big city, quietly and discreetly pumping my veins full of warm, freshly ground java. The effect coffee has on my attitude and outlook is equal to that of my time spent with Jesus, and it is glaringly obvious when I’ve gone without one or the other.
Entered the season of life in which a slew of supplements are required to keep things like my body temperature, inflammation and hormones in check. Holding out on using a weekly pill organizer because my brain has convinced me that’s only something grandparents need. Learning just how legit perimenopausal brain fog is. This is best is evidenced by a recent incident at the local car wash upon where I locked my keys, purse and phone in the car at the vacuum station. This resulted in many harried, unanswered calls and texts to my husband (from the car wash associate’s personal cell phone). An angel of the Lord known as Andres, the shift-manager at Quick Quack Car Wash, loaned me his car to drive home and grab my spare set of car keys. Shocked and deeply moved by the gesture, I slid into his low rider with cracked black leather seats. Immediately saw the dashboard light up like a Christmas tree with warning and maintenance lights. Began praying both the car and I would survive the journey without incident, seeing as I was sans wallet or phone, but had trouble concentrating over the thumping subwoofers. Looked in the rearview mirror to see the indiscreet THUG LIFE decal across the back window. Swore I wouldn’t forget to take my Omega-3 supplements ever again.
Highly anticipating an upcoming trip to Las Vegas to fulfill my teenage dream of seeing Mariah Carey in concert. Brushing tears out of my eyes just thinking about it. Spent an absurd number of hours shopping for just the right holiday outfit because I’m convinced I will die of happiness that night and it’s imperative I look fabulous when I do.
Sugar (English Bulldog, 4 years old)
Were there an award for laziness, Sugar would come in fourth just to avoid coming up to the podium.
Discovered she has acrophobia when we insisted she use a ramp to get on and off the couch. Not long after she miraculously “self-healed” from her arthritis and hip dysplasia, no longer requiring prescription medication or monthly injections (or a ramp, for that matter), which has us all wondering if she was faking it all along. She’s always been an attention hog.
Tolerates the seasonal wardrobe changes I make with her collars, bandanas, hoodies and (most recently, pajamas) with irritated huffs and snorts. Has made it her mission in life to never let us see how much she enjoys going for walks by stubbornly rooting to the spot before, during, and after we put her leash on. The top of our driveway is a hill she is willing to die on every single day.
Despite her healthy weight maintenance, and her delusion that frozen green beans are a great morning treat, she somehow still best resembles a baked potato.
Not seen here:
Sweat trickling down my back after relocating wall art and shoving an abundance of furniture and houseplants out of the frame. Zach coming down the stairs thirty seconds later and asking, “How can I help?”
Sugar taking this opportunity while we’re all distracted to walk out the open front door and chase down the passing neighbor and their dog.
Prov complaining I wore heels just so no one would see she’s finally taller than me.
Justice looking anywhere but at the camera for three dozen photos before this, covering up chocolate stains on his brand new sweater with his crossed arms.
Me shrieking, “For the love of all that is holy, can I please just get ONE picture where you don’t all look like idiots?!”
And a partridge in a pear tree.
Sugar’s resting face. And she is always resting.