Dreams are a Powerful Thing

 

Last night at the King Family Christmas party, our friend Wendy got up and told the story of her childhood Christmases in Australia. Her father ran a general store that was open 365 days a year, even half a day on Christmas. On Christmas, she and her brothers would watch Christmas shows on TV, and wait for their father to get home from the store. Their father believed in each person getting only one gift, so they'd wait all day to open their one gift, and that was Christmas. She asked her father, "Why can't we have a Christmas like they have on TV and the movies?" and her father said, "That stuff is only on TV. It isn’t real." But Wendy never stopped dreaming about those sparkly Christmases she saw every year on TV.

When she grew up, Wendy came to California on vacation, where she met and fell in love with a lovely man - and because of him, she would never leave California. They were married twenty years ago, and had a family. Little did she know when she met him that this man was part of the King Family- the family known for their annual Christmas specials. Troy and I have been part of the King Family’s annual holiday party and Christmas Show for 15 years, and let me tell you- nobody does Christmas like the King Family. Wendy’s Christmases now are far beyond the ones she saw in the movies. Every year, Christmas is sparkling and full of song and family and joy. I love Wendy’s story because it is such a strong testament to the power of dreams. 

Sing-a-long at the King Family Christmas party.

Christmas has always been a special time of year for me. After all, I’m born in December and named after a Christmas plant. But beyond that, it is a time of hope. It’s a time when my family always pulled it together to be our best selves, no matter what else was happening in our lives.

My childhood was not so bright and merry. Domestic violence, a dad in prison, and being shuffled around to relatives made me long for a normal, stable life. I would count the days every week until the Partridge Family show came on TV. I was riveted to the screen. Like Wendy watching her Christmas shows, I watched the Partridge Family and not only wanted to be like them, I wanted to BE them. And my favorite Christmas album? ---------->

Many years later, I married a musician, raised some musical kids, and now we record Christmas songs together every year. This is my Christmas/Partridge family dream-come-true. Our Christmas Family album is our gift to you, (download for free and share with friends, if you like) in the hopes that it inspires you to never think a dream is too big, or that you can’t have it, or that it doesn’t exist. Remember Wendy’s story, and be inspired.

Our wish for you this holiday season in that you hold on to your dreams.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays from our family to yours…
(Listen to our Family Affair Holiday Album while you peruse the internet by clicking below, or feel free to download the whole album for free.) 

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Hope on the Darkest Night

Lunar Eclipse on the night of Winter Solstice

photo: Ben Canant

Christmas comes in the heart of Winter Solstice, the time of year that darkness is longest, and day is shortest. Throughout history, people have celebrated this time. The Romans, Ancient Greeks, Jews, Incans, Native Americans all had rituals marking this darkest time of year. Many religions marked this night by lighting candles, evoking hope on the darkest of days. Eventually Christian sects began to adopt this time to celebrate the birth of Christ.

There is something about the snow that blankets us in a hush, and darkness that forces us to go within and huddle close together, that brings out our inner light. From the beginning of time we have been celebrating – no matter how dark the night, how dark the day, there is something in us that can not be extinguished. Something we all recognize as good, and bright and thriving. Hope becomes our communal heartbeat, the one thing that connects us all over the world.

As a kid growing up in a very uncertain, unbalanced household, December was one thing I could count on. It was the time of year my family would pull it together and we were at our very best. We acted like a real family. December brought not only Christmas, but my birthday. No matter how dysfunctional the rest of our lives were, my mother always gave us birthday parties- even if they were humble. One year I had a few friends over for Thanksgiving leftovers and a sleepover, and to me, that was grand. It was a time that I was honored, a time I felt I mattered. And Christmas, no matter how broke we were, was always an event. My mother wrapped presents like a professional. There was always glitz and huge bows. Even if what was inside was only a pair of socks, it was the most exciting presentation of socks you ever saw.

My heart swelled with hope in December. Maybe we’d take a day trip to play in the snow. Maybe my family would put aside their grievances and get together to tell stories and laugh. Maybe people would be just a little bit kinder to one another, even if only for those few weeks. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and it seemed anything was possible.

I loved the rituals, the religious songs and prayers, even though I grew up in a family who only set foot inside a church for a wedding or funeral. I held fast to those rituals, held the meaning of those songs close to my heart, because to me, they were the embodiment of everything I wanted to believe in.

I’ve noticed in the last eight years that my Christmas spirit has waned. My husband has tried valiantly to restore it, stringing the house with twinkly lights, wearing a santa hat all month long. And I try – I make gingerbread houses, bake cookies, listen to my Christmas music, but something had switched off inside me and I couldn’t get it back. At first I thought it was because my kids had become sullen teenagers who barely cracked a smile over my fabulous Christmas morning reveals. Maybe it was because we no longer had the fun of shopping at Toys R Us, since they now preferred clothes and electronics. But then I had Evan, and now baby Ayumu. Toys and Santa and magic prevail once again. Christmas is all about children, fabulous Christmas morning reveals were back, so where was my spirit?

Just last week, upon much deep contemplation, I realized where I lost it. Eight years ago, there was a fracture with my family (mother’s side) that created a chasm so wide I knew it could never be healed. There was no longer hope for us, not even at Christmas. I had always carried even the faintest flicker in my heart that maybe one day we’d all be okay, but it has long since been extinguished. Something in me quietly shattered, without my even knowing it. When I realized this, I wondered if it was possible to still feel hope in my heart for anything. But I’m not giving up.

What I’ve concluded is this: You can’t hold hope for something that is long gone. Hope belongs to the future. What I can feel hopeful about is that a cycle of madness stopped with me, and will not be passed down to my children nor future generations. There is great hope for my children and grandchildren to live a life that is expressive and open-hearted, free of family secrets and shame.

My house is now full with family and little ones, sparkling and twinkling with Christmas lights, fresh baked cookies on the stove, the smell of pine wafting through. We made it through a really ugly chapter, and we’re still here. Yes, Virginia, there is hope. It lives on. Reclaim it.

Last night was marked by a full lunar eclipse, the first one to occur on the Winter Solstice since the 1600s. Not only was it the darkest day, but also the darkest night. If it’s true that it’s always darkest before the dawn, then surely last night marked a new beginning.

Now that is something to truly feel hopeful about.

*A song Troy and I wrote about hope - "Northern Star"