Christmas is blooming at the Burtons.

The Burton Christmas tree is done! Huzzah! Every year, Christian spends days and nights meticulously putting lights on each and every branch. No casual flinging of strands for him. Only when it is done to his satisfaction can Jordan and Jacob come in and decorate the tree. The bows, including the big one at the top, are saved from their wedding.

Those wedding bows are particularly fitting as they celebrate their sixteenth wedding anniversary tonight. A romantic evening, with filets done on the grill, twice-baked potatoes, lobster tail. Jacob and I ate hot dogs and beans in the cottage. But, the disparity in dinners aside, it made me teary—happy tears—to remember that wonderful evening sixteen years ago. A large wedding at our church with the full choir singing. For me, the shining moment was when both Jordan’s brothers walked her down the aisle and, just before handing her to their father who was mobility impaired, kissed her on each cheek. As one of my more cynical friends said, “Be still my heart.”

But then it was dancing and dining at the Fort Worth Club, with almost all the people we care about, including most of the New York Alters. Uncle Mark managed to lead a late-night version of havah niglia, and Maddie, then only six or seven, was the belle of the ball. Such good memories.

But on to Christmas. Jordan has done a mighty job on the front of the house. She doesn’t like this picture—says it’s not clear enough—but I think it shows how spectacular the lights are. She learned some unforgettable lessons about holly bushes in the process of lighting up the house.

I stay in the back in my cottage, where inside and out, it is festively lit, but it’s a joy for me to see these “front of the house” decorations. I will, of course, get into the main house several times between now and Christmas. Jordan has even suggested one night soon we sip eggnog (yep, the kind with nog in it) in front of the fire while enjoying the glow of the tree. And at least one night we’re going to go chasing Christmas lights in the city, something I did years ago with the children.

It goes without saying that this has been a hard year for everyone, between pandemic and the worst, drawn-out election battle that none of us ever imagined would happen. There is good news on the latter front tonight in that the Supreme Court has refused to hear Ken Paxton’s frivolous suit against the major states that went for Biden. But still, trump will keep appealing wherever he can, stirring up trouble among his most rabid followers, and the threat of violence lingers. And our friends, neighbors, relatives are dying at an alarming rate.

In the face of all that, it would be easy to give up, throw our hands up in the air, and cancel the holiday season. I can’t speak for Hanukkah and Kwanza and other seasonal holidays, but I can say that is strictly counter to the meaning of Christmas, which brings us hope in the darkest of winters. And this year there is hope—a vaccine, a new presidential administration.

I am proud of Jordan for her determination to keep the spirit of Christmas, to make it festive for all of us. And I am doing my darndest to keep up with her spirit. I hear people all around me say they just can’t quite get the spirit this year, and, even though I was known to say it myself, I think how wrong that is. We need Christmas this year more than most years. Rejoice!