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Right around the time that the Halloween decorations start looking a little ragged, Americans kick themselves into a Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday frenzy. For the next month, even under the guise of "goodwill toward men" and sacred family time, many families spend less time feeling goodwill or with their families than they do speed shopping and fighting off the egg-nog hangover. All too often, January second leaves families feeling sick of each other, bloated off of Aunt Betty's Christmas mystery bon-bons, and someone inevitably feeling like they got the short end of the present stick. In short, we feel anything but joyous.

A couple years ago, my family got sick of this. It took us months to recover from Christmas, and every time Halloween rolled around, a familiar nervous ache started in our bellies. Would we be able to save enough money to get cool enough presents for our loved ones? Would this be the year that Mom finally figured out how to make pumpkin pie that didn't taste like cardboard? The holiday season was a rough and difficult time of year, and there was scarce time to feel grateful or connected, because we were always too busy compulsively buying or eating.
So we decided to call Christmas off. Instead, we invented "Thalmatology Day", a day that wasn't about buying, wasn't about decorating, and wasn't even about eating. In fact, all three of those things were basically outlawed. Instead, we would all sit around a table of lit candles, each holding an object we found around the house -something we already owned-that had emotional value for us. One by one, we told the story of the object, and how it was meaningful. The stories were amazing, and it was fascinating to see how we're already surrounded by objects that mean so much. Small things, and usually unexpected: my sister brought a tiny pressed flower, practically crumbling from age, and revealed that it was one my dad had picked for her on a family hiking trip years earlier. As all the stories came out, it became really obvious that none of these objects had any material value at all. They were basically garbage; just momentoes and trinkets from a lifetime of living together. The secret of these objects was that they were really all about our family- the places we'd been and the people we'd known, and the things we loved to do. In that moment, Christmas took on a whole new meaning.
We still celebrate Christmas, but its calmer now. And Thalmatology Day- which directly means "the study of miracles" always manages to edge out Santa and the mall as top holiday in my book.

Learn more about this author, Rachel Nelson.
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