I think I was about 45 when I started thinking about wanting a change in my life. I had been a home mom for 17 years. Actually, I never had planned or wanted to stay home but our situation evolved into that being the best plan for our growing family. My children were getting older, college was on the horizon and my role was changing. I was restless. What did I want to do? It was a time of reflection, an honest assessment of my strengths and areas to build on, as well as trying to determine what jobs were realistic during school hours. The more women I talk with about this time in our lives, the more I find I’m not alone. I hate to coin this time in my life as a midlife crisis because it was not a catastrophe. I viewed it as a period where my mom duties at home were shifting allowing new doors to open. Time was available to develop an identity beyond mother. What were my interests in my forties? How did I want to spend my time? For me, I didn’t necessarily want to start a career. Instead, I wanted to serve. I wanted a purpose to fill my days outside of my home. It was a sense of fulfillment I was seeking quite possibly because my nurturing persona wasn’t needed in the same way anymore. It’s been a few years since I started on this journey of reevaluation and while I did go back to work as a reading interventionist in an inner-city Catholic school, my soul is partially fulfilled. What I’ve come to acknowledge is that this journey is changing all the time, right alongside the metamorphosis of my almost 50-year-old self as well as my almost empty nester family. I have to stop myself from trying to have it figured out. Serving in my role works now but I’m flexible in that tomorrow it may not. What fulfills my heart in this moment, may leave it searching for different meaning next month. I’m not scared anymore. I’m not even restless. And this is quite a gift that midlife has brought. I’m content to explore opportunities, change my mind, and simply be. When your path diverges, where will you go? ❤︎
My eldest daughter painted the sign as a Christmas present one year. She also found a ceramic light up tree and painted that as well since I remembered having one as a child.
I thought the previous blog post was going to be my last entry of simple gifts. Yet, when a cousin asked if I would make my pizzelles for Christmas Eve, I had to smile. My grandmother’s recipe for the Italian cookie has been enjoyed by family and friends since I can remember. I was gifted my own pizzelle iron when I got married, hence carrying on the tradition. And that’s when I realized I do have one more gift for my children this and every year going forward….traditions.
It’s ironic really because I wrote an article this month for a parenting newspaper. And guess what my topic was? Traditions old and new! Yet I didn’t fully think of our customs as a gift, but that’s what they truly are. Traditions are passed down from generation to generation, providing comfort, history, belonging, and simple joy. Many of the things we do each holiday may be overlooked. I use Christmas glasses from when I was a child. They come out each and every year, mostly for egg nog. We admire ornaments from years past, ones that were even pieces of my own baby mobile. I have one photo ornament since we became a family 17 years ago and they have become a visual reminder of how our children have grown. When our children started school, we made teachers a variety of cookies as a gift. Even this last weekend, my youngest inquired as to when we were having Baking Day, she enthusiastically named it. These are all simple traditions created and treasured by my family.
We bake A LOT in our home. Becoming a mother made me a cook and baker. I found such gratification in cooking homemade meals for my family. Baking has become comforting and a way to show love. We pass on the love by making recipes from grandparents (nan’s thumbprint cookies, yiayia’s butter cookies stuffed with Nutella), relatives (my aunt’s cranberry nut bread), and friends (my college roommates’ nana’s date nut bread). We’ve added many favorites of our own from peppermint bark to chocolate-dipped Oreos (notice the chocolate theme?!). But the sentiment is the same; pass on what you love through work with your hands to show others you care.
I admit I had a hundred other things to do today. However, the laundry will eventually get done, dusting the dining room can wait, and researching my next topic will be paused. Instead, I’m making a cup of tea, putting on Christmas music, and deciding to pass on decades of joy. Smiles along with tantalized tastebuds with hints of anisette are my priority. Knowing my children have generations of traditions filling their hearts, makes this gift one that will keep giving when they have families of thier own.
Wishing my Essentialist Family a very, very Merry Christmas! May your days be filled with all things essential: happiness, laughter, kindness, compassion, faith, love and traditions. Oh, and a few pizzelles would make it that more tasty.❤︎
Collecting books each year has become a wonderful keepsake that will be passed on.
❤︎The series of entries in December will be short essays on simple gifts you can give your children each and every day. During this season of light, hope, and love, I will share my own stories to inspire reflection and possibly spark small changes in your family as we focus on what’s truly essential.
I was raised Catholic until I was 7yrs old. When my parents decided to divorce, my mother stopped going to Church. Without guidance, I fell away too. When I met my husband, I was thrown into the world of Greek Orthodoxy. His family’s rich and fierce faith was eye-opening. Their culture is intricately woven into their religion. Liturgies are mostly delivered in Ancient Greek. It took me years to get comfortable with the rituals, icons, chants, symbolism, and Greek written texts. Yet, there was always something so peaceful and calming about each service. When my husband, two children, and I moved away from family and started a new part of our lives in New England, one of the first places we went was Church. It was the summer of 2010, and I saw a flyer for a Bible Camp. When I walked in with a 3 and 4-year-old, not knowing a soul, I was warmly greeted and embraced. I felt welcomed in a way I never experienced. Our previous high-holiday visits to Church quickly morphed into weekly attendance. Our children loved the friendships they formed eagerly awaiting Sunday School each week. Fellowship after Liturgy allowed for learning more about our community, things to do, insight into schools, and a social network connected in faith.
As time progressed, I personally looked forward to sitting in a pew, surrounded by glorious icons, inhaling fragrant incense, and lighting a single white candle. As I paused each Sunday to ignite a flame, I prayed and thanked God for the good health, happiness, and blessings of my family. This Church was deeply part of the overall strength of my young family. The African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a family,” rings true in my heart. Our Church has become our village even without knowing it. As parents, we surrounded our children with like-minded families, valuing similar morals, dedicated to service, and putting God first and foremost in our lives. With this village, came peace and immense gratitude. I never knew what I was missing in life until this Church and Priest invited me in. After my third child was born, I converted to Greek Orthodox. It was one of the most fulfilling experiences I’ll ever know. In a way, it completed me as a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor, and teacher. It has continued to shape my journey in this world in a way I never imagined. Nor should I have assumed I had it all planned, because I know now more than ever that God’s plan for me is simply more than I ever could have dreamed.
Twelve years later, this Church, our Priest, and its members have become our family. My children have each become interwoven in this community of faith. My older two actively lead a teen youth group proudly engaging and promoting their Greek Orthodox religion. They are starting a Hellenic Club at their Catholic high school sharing their love of Orthodoxy as well as culture with their peers. They seek our social opportunities within the realm of their faith along with purpose. They give of themselves freely to serve others less fortunate. It has shaped who they have become as individuals. Their identity and belonging are rooted in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control, and faithfulness (Galatians 5:22). This last gift to my children is one I had never expected. If you had asked my younger teenage self if I would belong to a Church or be an active Christian, I’d firmly say, “No.” Yet, once I became a mother, I opened my heart to possibilities, seeking answers for my blessings. The Greek Orthodox Church was my answer and is my gift to my family. It has strengthed my connection to my beloved husband which deepens our family bonds. I wholeheartedly pray my children will continue to walk with God each and every day of their lives and feel as much love and completeness as I have been blessed.
the Essentialist Family 