For our family, 2025 has been an odd and, mostly, wonderful year. There has been loss, but most of the twists and turns have, ultimately, brought us closer to the people we care about. Last night, as we moved more firmly into a new holiday tradition, celebrating Christmas Eve at a restaurant with our sons and their significant others, 2025 brought us a blessed connectedness.

In July, we left Vermont for a shoreline town in Connecticut. The move put my husband and me closer to siblings at a time when all of us are watching our chicks fly the nest (or in our case, the coop). We lost a family member in August and grieved. By Thanksgiving, accepting the realities of having adult children with their own lives, we also realized that the traditions we’ve had aren’t dying. They are, however, part of a different time in our lives that is receding into the past. In their place, new routines that will become traditions are beginning emerge. New or old, the traditions share the common purpose of connecting our family even as it shrinks and then grows again.

I am ever aware of the impact of current events on families around the country and the world. That awareness drives every bit of my professional life this year, solidifying my “why,” which is grounded in the idea that all children should be educated, healthy, and safe. As I sat with the two most important “children” in my life last night, however, I remembered where that “why” really began.

I am quite possibly the least religious person in our family. The only fiber of faith in my life is the eternal gratitude I feel for having Thing1 and Thing2 (They will always be Thing1 and Thing2) come into my life. They gave our lives perspective and meaning. They gave me a “why” that forms the purpose for my second and third acts. Last night, as we gathered at a cozy restaurant in Cambridge, MA, and watched our sons banter with their significant others, I knew we were making a new tradition. It’s the evolution of the gatherings the Big Guy and I have had on the same day with our great-grandparents and grandparents and parents and children for the past half-century. It’s the evolution of our connections, and for me, it’s become a sacred thing.

So, however you spend this time of year when the Northern Hemisphere is at its darkest and just starting to get brighter, I hope some Merry Connectedness finds its way to you.