The Christmas I Gave Up… and the One I Found Again

Christmas used to feel like magic to me…like something you could actually believe in.
The lights, the traditions, the music… it was everything.

So when I chose to give it up, I told myself it was worth it.

What I didn’t expect… was how much of myself I felt like I lost along the way.

And I definitely didn’t expect how I would find my way back.

Christmas used to feel like literal magic to me.

I truly believed in Santa Claus and his reindeer. My favorite activities were Christmas cartoons and books like The Night Before Christmas. I remember staying up until midnight on Christmas Eve, watching out my window for Santa.

We always went to a Christmas tree farm and picked out and chopped down our own tree. We would take a long drive, get cocoa or hot apple cider, and ride on a wagon out to the trees. We would be muddy and cold. Then on the way home, we’d stop and eat at a restaurant with all of our friends.

I loved making homemade ornaments and decorating as a family. It was always such a happy time of year for us kids.

My parents would hide the presents in their closet. They didn’t know we knew that.

That’s actually how I found out there was no Santa.

I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember seeing presents in the closet, and then on Christmas morning, those same presents were under the tree marked “from Santa.”

My parents would stay up all Christmas Eve wrapping everything. We were allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve, but the rest wouldn’t appear under the tree, with stockings stuffed, until Christmas morning.

Christmas Day food was a mix of the best and the worst.

I remember my grandma making pumpkin pies with Equal instead of real sugar. And these jello roll things with marshmallows that I always thought were gross. But I loved the mashed potatoes and gravy… and all the desserts made with real sugar.

My grandma would always buy me chocolate peppermint Frango candies—she knew they were my favorite. She would also take me shopping at my favorite clothing stores and let me pick out my own clothes. That time will always stay special to me.

My mom and I would craft decorations together. My favorite was this giant Nutcracker ornament we made. The amount of hot glue we used on that thing was ridiculous.

When I was younger, we made paper chains to count down the days until Christmas. And the chocolate advent calendars—I loved those so much.

It all just felt… magical.

I also remember the last Christmas I celebrated.

It was with my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband. His experience growing up was very different. His mom was raised by one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, and she was raising three boys on her own, so Christmas wasn’t a big thing for them. They got what they needed.

So when he came to my house for Christmas, it was overwhelming, but in a good way. It was everything he had ever imagined.

And then… to find out that this was what we would have to give up… was heartbreaking.

I remember him asking me, “We don’t have to become Jehovah’s Witnesses. We can just study the Bible on our own and still celebrate holidays.”

But I wouldn’t listen.

I believed that if this was what I had to sacrifice to live in a paradise earth, then I would do it.

Each year after that was difficult.

My mom would call me, and I felt so guilty. I missed being with my family. Giving up holidays that I loved, especially Christmas and even Halloween, was the hardest part of becoming a Witness for me.

I still loved decorating, so I would put up “winter” decorations instead of Christmas decorations. In the fall, I would decorate with pumpkins.

But I never lost the holiday spirit.

And I always felt guilty about that.

I was also in choir, which was one of my favorite things. I loved singing Christmas songs. I knew every word to almost every Christmas song ever written.

We would go places like Leavenworth to perform, and it was something I truly loved.

So after giving it all up, it felt strange that when Christmas music came on, I still knew every word. I couldn’t help but sing along. I couldn’t help but feel something.

I tried to shut it out.

But it was really hard.

When we had kids, we tried to make it special in other ways. Every year, we would take them to Toys “R” Us the day after Christmas and give them a spending limit so they could pick out whatever they wanted.

We didn’t want them to feel left out.

And to this day, my kids will tell you they still have great memories around Christmas. We always planned special activities to make it meaningful.

I also remember the first Christmas I celebrated after leaving.

It didn’t start the way you might think.

I found out the hard way that my kids were leaving the religion.

One day after my grandson was born, I texted them asking if I could come see him. They sent a picture back and said, “Sure… but this is what our house looks like right now.”

It was a Christmas tree.

I was devastated.

I cried so hard. My mind immediately went to, My husband won’t be in paradise with me… and now neither will my son, his wife, or my grandson.

I thought I still had my daughter.

So I called her, completely upset. She told me she already knew, and again, I was devastated. I asked her if she was celebrating too. She kind of avoided answering, but I knew.

I know her so well.

And in that moment, I realized I had no one left to go to meetings with.

I felt completely alone.

All I could think was, Why does no one want to be in paradise with me?
I had sacrificed so much. I had taught them right from wrong. And they were choosing something different.

What had I done wrong?

When my husband got home, I was still a mess. He looked at me calmly and said, “You still have to go over there.”

I said, “How? I’m too upset.”

And he said something I’ll never forget:

“Do you want to be in their lives? You get to go over there and see your grandson. And you get to be with your kids and accept them the way they want to live their lives, because it’s their choice. If you don’t accept that, they won’t want you around.”

So I pulled myself together and went.

And I actually enjoyed my visit.

But afterward, as I started processing everything and talking more with my daughter, something kept coming up for me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that my family would be celebrating together… and I wouldn’t be there.

This beautiful, meaningful day… and I would be on the outside of it.

I couldn’t take it.

There had to be something I could do.

The kids invited us over for Christmas, and my husband said yes. I remember thinking, Wait… really? This is happening?

Then he said, “Why don’t we bring it here? They have a small place.”

And something shifted in me.

I thought, Well… if we’re doing this… then I might as well get my own tree.

I told myself I would just decorate it like my “winter” decorations and call it a family day.

Now this part still makes me laugh.

My daughter and I went to Michaels to buy a tree. We were so scared someone would see us. Another one of Jehovah’s Witness that we knew.

We rushed in, grabbed a tree, threw it on a cart, checked out as fast as we could, and practically ran to the car. We threw it in the trunk, slammed it shut, got in the car…

…and just lost it.

We were laughing so hard. Completely hysterical.

It is still one of my favorite memories.

We bought blue and white decorations so we could pretend it wasn’t “Christmas.”

And I kept saying, “It’s just a family day.”

But that first Christmas…

was one of the happiest days of my life.

It felt so special—especially because it was my grandson’s first Christmas.

And now I can say that I’ve been there for him from the very beginning.

And in the end it’s not what I gave up… but what I chose to come back to.