As winter descends and the holiday season nears, my son, Leo, has been captivated by the imagery of wolves. He describes the pack as his nocturnal guardians, and in the mornings, I can almost visualize them trailing behind him, their watchful eyes glimmering. Standing barefoot amidst these imaginary creatures, Leo asks for breakfast, and I am relieved to see him finally free from nightmares. He found solace just as I let go of my own.
This year, I made the decision to embrace atheism. With Christmas approaching, my partner, Jake, and I discuss our plans for the holiday. Without church services to attend, our schedule is unusually open, yet I struggle to fill it. This is my inaugural Christmas without the faith that once defined it, and I find myself grieving the traditions I am leaving behind.
For as long as I can remember, Christmas has been rooted in religious significance for me. I fondly recall eagerly anticipating the candlelight service on Christmas Eve, much like I did the unwrapping of presents the following morning. The warmth of my parents beside me in their festive sweaters, the flickering candlelight, and the harmonious singing all contributed to an experience I wished to share with my children.
When Leo was born, I envisioned passing down this cherished tradition. His nursery overflowed with Bibles and Christian literature, but when bedtime stories came around, those books remained untouched. I found no joy in reading them, often skimming and feeling a sense of discomfort. One evening, while reading with Leo, I came to a realization: I had loved my faith, but I no longer believed in its tenets.
Now, months after my transformation, I often ponder the essence of Christmas. Will Leo and his siblings find wonder and joy in the holiday, or will a secular celebration feel hollow, akin to a trip to a theme park—a fond memory devoid of deeper meaning? The answer, it seems, is intertwined with the imagery of wolves.
This Christmas, our family will embark on a journey to the northern reaches of Minnesota, where the Superior National Forest harbors a protected wolf habitat. Jake will park outside the interpretive center, and I will assist the kids from their seats. We will rush indoors, shedding our winter gear amid the scent of damp wool and the sound of our boots on the floor. Leo’s eyes will sparkle with excitement.
I realize I don’t need to teach my children about beauty; they inherently see it. We can forge new traditions and create meaning together. Standing together at the viewing windows, I will remove my mittens and hold Jake’s hand. The children will wiggle between us, their faces sticky from peppermint treats, eagerly gazing into the dark exhibit for signs of life.
As snowflakes drift down, indistinguishable from the stars above, we will witness the wolves together. This family experience, built on love and connection, will provide the significance I seek.
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In summary, this Christmas, my family will create our own traditions and memories, finding beauty in our shared experiences rather than relying on the past.
Keyphrase: Finding meaning in a secular Christmas
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