Facebook helpfully posted my memories yesterday, taking me back to Christmas Eve-Eve 13 years ago.

Naturally I realize Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ, first and foremost. Yet somehow, I also thought Christmas was supposed to involve traditions.

What I've been asking about this month--and the Facebook memories highlighted it—is what do you do when traditions are ended against your will?

13 years ago yesterday, my late mother had started a new job. That job was working for a friend of mine, who died in 2015. And Christmas will never be quite the same since mom passed in 2022. 4 years ago, we were experiencing the fake snow at the flagship Williamsburg Yankee Candle Store, where we ran into friends. Now, the building stands empty. 2 years ago, we were at Extraordinary Cupcakes in Williamsburg; last week, we remembered with sadness that they closed this year. 1 year ago, we lit the lights on our front porch. This year, I couldn't get them to work.

Traditions impacted, big and small.

How we handle the crushing of traditions is a bit of a metaphor for how we handle change in our life. I don't have a neat answer, tied up in a box with a bow. But it does come down to this: we should be intentional when it happens. Sometimes traditions simply need to end. Sometimes they can be replaced with others; here's a cool story about someone who did just that.

But most importantly, traditions don't have to be the boss of me.

P.S. Who Moved my Cheese was published by Spencer Johnson while I was pregnant with my firstborn, at a point when I was interested in absorbing more about change personally and professionally. The book became a DVD used in corporations to teach about managing change…briefly becoming one of the aforementioned son's favorite videos. He asked over and over to be able to see it again, but it was a short time (expensive!) corporate rental. You might want to take a look at this animated version.

P-PS. No one moved the cheeseball. It will be on our Christmas table, just like always.