I experienced my first white Christmas when I was 24 years old. But it didn't feel like Christmas. All those years spent waiting for that mythical white Christmas, and when it finally happened, the magic fell flat. 

That year I learned the holidays are about a lot more than what you see out your window. It's what's on the other side of the window pane that really counts. And in 1998, my family and the holiday traditions that we shared in our home were over 1,000 miles away.

Now over a decade of white Christmases later, I find myself looking out the window and blaming the lack of snow for my deficiency in holiday spirit. How can it possibly feel like Christmas with green grass underfoot and pebbles in the driveway? 

But that's where I've got something wrong. If I could find the spirit of Christmas in a world of blown-up snowmen on bare lawns and plastic Santas fading in the warm southern sun, why not now? Does my Christmas spirit hinge on something as fickle as the weather?

I'm beginning to think that it's the busyness of this time of year that is the great thief of holiday joy. Ironically, it's the very activities that we do in the search for the spirit of Christmas that keeps us from finding it. 

As I step on to the treadmill of holiday festivities this year, I'm asking myself, "Just what is it that fills my holiday-spirit tank?"

December 1st comes, and it feels like someone hits the "Go" button. We start going through the motions just hoping that the motions, themselves, will generate the feeling. But I think it has to be more intentional than that. 

It seems to me that we need to make room in our lives for the spirit of Christmas to come in.

Case in point: I love decorating my house for the holidays. But for years, I made the classic decorating mistake. I didn't clear out before I added in. I merely pushed picture frames and potted plants to the side to make way for porcelain nativity scenes and bowls of cinnamon-scented potpourri. As any designer will tell you, a little goes a long way. And too much stuff diminishes the impact of any one item.  

Not so dissimilar from the "mindfuless" rule that applies to healthy eating. If you're cramming down your lunch while reading the paper and listening to voicemails, you probably won't taste the ginger in your carrot ginger soup. And you also won't hear your stomach sending the message that it's full. 

When you merely dump holiday festivities on top of an already burgeoning schedule, chances are you'll overload the senses and be left with a nondescript plate of tasteless holiday mush. 

So here's the question: Does all the holiday "merry-making" bring more stress than joy? Leaving us too frazzled and exhausted to drink in the magic?

It seems that every magazine on the shelf this time of year features a how-to article on simplifying the holidays, presumably to lower the stress quotient. They'll tell you to skip the homemade cookie batter in favor of slice and bake, send e-cards instead of ones you actually have to address and stamp, and mail-order your holiday rum cake - all in the name of creating efficiency in the machinery of holiday reveling.

I know of a woman who built a special room in her house to store a fully decorated Christmas tree on a moveable cart, so that she only had to worry with the hassle of decorating it once. She rolled it out a few weeks before Christmas and rolled it back into the closet on New Years.

Our overachieving culture would tell you the goal is to figure out a way to keep all the balls in the air while expending less energy and effort. But I would say that one of the precursers to experiencing holiday joy would be to zero in on a few special traditions and make them count more. 

One of my favorite summer reads is Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea. In it, she talks about the importance of creating "spaces" in your day, week, and year that help set apart and define the events that take place around them. Just as spaces in a sentence give meaning to a string of letters, she says that moments of quiet and solitude give form to the activities of our lives - and help us create memories. 

So how to find those sacred spaces in a jam-packed December calendar? I don't think it takes that much. It could be as simple as sinking a peppermint stick in a hot mug of cocoa and sipping it by the tree, or taking a walk in the snowy woods just to take in the scenery. 

I think it's a matter of stepping outside of ourselves for a moment or two to empathize with the joy or pain of others. Seizing the opportunity to celebrate what is, or lending a hand to help achieve what might be.

I love this time of year. And I'm the kind of person who wants to do it all. But I don't want to get to the end of it and wonder where the time went - or find myself lamenting that the snow never came.

So instead of waiting for the world to turn wintry white, I'm hoping that the Christmas spirit will take root and begin to grow in the spaces I'm setting aside for it. 


Would a snow-filled December add to my holiday joy? Absolutely. But I'm not putting too much weight on it.
 

With the whirl of activity that encompasses the holiday season, it's easy to miss opportunities to connect with our loved ones. You might be standing in the kitchen alongside your mother or grandmother for hours preparing a holiday meal, but between the kids running in and out for snacks, the telephone ringing, and the to-do list running laps in your head, the conversation might not get very far.

Even though we oftenspend more time with our loved ones during the holidays than at other times of the year, quantity doesn't necessarily add up to quality. 

So make an effort this year to step it up a notch, dig below the surface, and learn more about your loved ones - and your family history.

Here are a few holiday-related conversation starters you might want to try: 

• How did your family celebrate Christmas Eve?
• How did your family's heritage shape the way you celebrated the holidays (meals, traditions)?
• Did you have a Christmas tree? If so, where did you get it?
• Do you remember making any special holiday decorations for the tree or to place around the house?
• What kinds of dishes did your mother or grandmother prepare for Christmas Eve or Christmas day dinners?
• Where did you celebrate Christmas, and who was there?
• What do you remember about Christmas morning?
• What special Christmas gifts do you remember receiving as a child?
• What gifts do you remember making or buying for someone else?
• Was there music in your home during the holidays?
• How did your family commemorate Christmas as a religious holiday?
• What favorite holiday books or movies stand out in your mind?
• How did your family celebrate New Year's Eve or New Year's Day?
• What special dishes were served on New Years? 
• What is your favorite holiday memory?

Turn on the television this time of year, and you can instantly see how rampant commercialism threatens to steal the heart of Christmas. But instead of feeling disheartened, I've decided to "take back" Christmas by reinstituting some old-fashioned holiday traditions in my home this year. 

Here are a few ideas that I've come across in my quest to get back to the basics:

Have a taffy pull. How many kids today would actually know what this is? I have to admit that when a woman told me it was a favorite holiday tradition in her family, I had to google it. Apparently, you can use honey, or mollasses, or corn syrup in the recipe. Click here to learn how to stage your own taffy pull. 

Play old-fashioned games. Charades, checkers, chess. These traditional family games will slow down Father Time during the holidays and help you focus on what matters most - spending quality time with your family. One of the great "robbers" of Christmas joy is the busyness that overtakes us this time of year. Sitting down and playing a simple game of chess by the fire will make those precious minutes last longer.

Bake homemade bread dough ornaments. Remember these? What you'll need: 4 cups flour, 2 cups water, 2 cups salt. Mix ingredients into a ball; roll it out on parchment paper; cut with cookie cutters; make a hole at the top with a toothpick; and bake on parchment paper at 325 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour. After they cool, paint and varnish with clear fingernail polish. Tie a ribbon, and they're ready to hang!

Go caroling! Why not be the first person on your block in the past 30 or 40 years to organize a Christmas caroling outing? I remember going caroling with my high school choir, and this is still one of my favorite holiday memories. All it takes is a handful of willing partipants, a row of lit houses, and a few old-fashioned carols in your back pocket. What better way to share holiday joy? Nursing homes are also a great caroling destination.

String cranberry and popcorn garland. What you'll need: cranberries, popcorn (let sit overnight), strong string, and a needle (ask at a craft store about ones that are safe for children). I sprayed mine with hairspray to keep it from aging, and to keep the mice away while in storage (we've had ours for 6 years!).

Make homemade cookie and candy baskets. Pull out the cookbooks and select a few cookie and candy recipes; pick up all the ingredients at the store; and then designate a "cookie baking" day with family and friends. This is the perfect day to put on some Christmas music, make a pot of hot cocoa, and don the apron that hangs in your pantry the rest of the year. When all of the goodies are made, you might choose to place them in baskets or bags and deliver them to neighbors who are spending the holidays alone. Of course, don't forget to keep a handful for your own holiday nibbling!

Read the Christmas story and other holiday classics aloud. Remember sitting around the dining room table or in the living room listening to your mother or father read the Christmas story? If not, it's something that you could start with your own family. In our family, this has always been a Christmas Eve tradition. We light a few candles, snuggle together on the couch, and read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas followed by the story of Christ's birth. For me, it wouldn't feel like Christmas without this quiet, reflective time as a family to soak in the reason for the season.