Let's Keep Christmas

Six of my favorite Substack writers on the how and why of celebrating the Twelve Days in their homes and hearts

Before we moved to our current town in central Virginia, we spent a couple of years renting a home and looking for land to build in Loudoun County, a rural—though increasingly less so—former sanctuary for Washington DC’s elite, the likes of whom included Jackie Kennedy.

One property we toured boasted a tiny antique-y cottage with a quaint log cabin atop a hillside overlooking idyllic rolling acres of green pasture. Upon running the numbers and thinking through possibilities (and discovering asbestos), we decided it wasn’t the right fit for us, but in my research into the property I discovered a gem.

The adjacent farm (I later learned was called Evergreen Farm)—the one whose immaculate landscape the property overlooked, once belonged to Catherine Marshall, the widow of the famed former U.S. Senate chaplain and New York Avenue Presbyterian Church preacher, Peter Marshall.

Immediately fascinated by her life and his, I dove into each of their impressive writings—her books and his sermons—and was inspired by their life story, with its vigor and zeal for the Lord, even as Catherine lost Peter so young—at just 46—to a heart attack. And then, I stumbled upon a short sermon I’ll cling to year-over-year as Christmas Day whizzes by and we, as Christians, are left with a choice that feels increasingly countercultural to make: will we keep the feast?

Will we celebrate Christmas in it’s entirety, just as it has always been done?

In this famous sermon, Let’s Keep Christmas, Marshall preached:

Isn't it wonderful to think that nothing can really harm the joy of Christmas. Although your tree decorations will include many new, it's the old that mean the most, the ones you save carefully from year to year. And you'll bring out the tiny manger and lovingly arrange the little figures of the Holy Family. There will be the fragrance of cookies baking. And you'll listen to the wonderful Christmas music on the radio. Some of the songs will be modern, but it will be the old carols, the lovely old Christmas hymns that will mean the most. Forests of greens will march right into our living rooms. There will be bells on our doors and holly wreaths in our windows. And then you will remember what Christmas means. The promise that the angels sang is the most wonderful music the world has ever heard. "Peace on earth and good will toward men." In a world that seems to be not only changing but even dissolving, there are some tens of millions of us who want Christmas to be the same. . . with the same old greeting "Merry Christmas" and no other. We long for the abiding love among men of good will which the season brings. Believing in this ancient miracle of Christmas with its softening, sweetening influence tugs at our heart strings once again. So we will not "spend" Christmas ... nor "observe" Christmas. We will "keep" Christmas- keep it as it is in all the loveliness of its ancient traditions. May we keep it in our hearts, that we may be kept in its hope.

Marshall spoke of keeping Christmas as it has always been, and for Christians, this has always been a season of feasting! Not a single day flash in the pan (thank goodness—we did so much preparation and it would be a real shame for it to all be over in just one wrapping paper-covered morning!) Celebrating the season fully does something in our hearts that cannot be achieved in a mere 24 hours.

Still, this is easier said than done when Christmas boxes beckon to be packed up, the whole slate wiped clean in preparation for a new calendar year.

So, to gin up some inspiration for keeping Christmas both in my heart and in yours, I asked a handful of my favorite and most thoughtful Substack writers to chime in on how they observe and celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas in their own hearts and homes.

I think you’ll be deeply blessed and inspired, as I was, by what they had to say…

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Ashley Tumlin Wallace of The Liturgical Home:

In our home, Christmas doesn’t end on December 25, it begins. We try to embrace the fullness of Christmastide by stretching out the joy, wonder, feasting, and celebration across all twelve days. We don’t rush to take anything down; the tree stays lit, the wreaths remain on the doors, and the beauty of Christmas is allowed to linger in our home. I have candles throughout the house, and we light them whenever we wish, simply because this season is all about light and it’s beautiful. We finally sing all the Christmas carols we’ve been holding back during Advent, playing our favorite carol playlist on repeat through our living room speakers until it feels as though the songs have soaked into the walls. Each evening, we light all of the Advent candles, and at long last, the white Christ candle in the center, reminding us of the Light of the World among us.

The Nativity scene is a particularly beloved part of our celebration. On Christmas Eve, we place Baby Jesus in the manger, and throughout the twelve days, the Wise Men slowly make their journey toward Him, finally arriving on Epiphany. These days are slower and quieter, filled with carols and candlelight. We keep baking our favorite Christmas treats, sugar cookies, fudge, and baklava, my mom’s Christmas specialty, and eat as much as we want. These days invite us torest, to reflect, and to keep celebrating the miracle that God chose to dwell among us. For us,Christmastide is about letting the light linger, staying present to the joy and wonder that doesn’t end on Christmas morning, but only just begins.

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Kristin Haakenson of Hearthstone Fables:

In trying to graft the fullness of Christmas - its whole Twelve Days - into our own family life, we kept feeling the dissonance of ‘keeping Christmas’ when our surrounding culture had moved on. When I stopped seeing Christmas as a *destination*, though...instead, seeing it as a *journey*...the wholeness of this mysterious season began to bloom in more organic ways for us.

I started to wonder about Christmastide as an invitation to pilgrimage: a time both inward and expansive, dynamic in its connection with both God and neighbor. This helps me to prune away all the expectations I had put on Christmastide of being twelve solid days of Christmas activities/crafts/baking. Instead, I take a note from Medieval Twelvetide celebrations, which were sustained by community-wide movements like wassailing and mumming...journeys, from place to place, through the mystery of the season and through the terrain itself. And even if there are no longer community traditions of this sort, we distill them into our modern Twelvetide pilgrimages: driving trips to visit family...small day-hikes to new destinations or familiar ones...dropping off hot cocoa on a neighbor’s porch.

In our Christmastide pilgrimage traditions, we aim to seek out the local treasures wherever we are - listening for God’s whispers about the Nativity along the daily path toward whatever our destination may be that day, whether finally making the drive to an aunt’s house to drop off some festive gifts, seeking out a new hike, or returning to a meaningful place...whether it’s many days’ drive away or just down the road, we try to treat each of these Twelve Days as another leg in our Nativity pilgrimage. And, in treating this sacred time as a progression through the season rather than a static celebration, we find ourselves more sustained in the beauty of our landscape, our people, and this greatest of God’s gifts.

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Emily Malloy of Theology of Home:

Living Christmastide invites our household into a more intentional and profound liturgical life. Although it can be discouraging to witness the broader culture abandon Christmas celebrations on December 26, observing the full twelve days—from December 25 through the Feast of the Epiphany—fosters a sustained awareness of Christ’s presence. This practice cultivates wonder and joy within the home. The anticipation established by a simplified Advent yields significant spiritual fruit during Christmas. In our family, we embrace the richness of the Octave and attend Mass together on the feast days between Christmas and the Epiphany, such as the Feast of the Holy Innocents, which commemorates Herod’s massacre of boys two years old and under, and the Feast of St. Stephen, the first martyr. We continue to bake and celebrate with each meal through these days. During family night prayer, we intentionally conclude with singing Christmas hymns. Attending or hosting an Epiphany party extends the season further. Ultimately, centering the season around Christ rather than material goods establishes a strong foundation for a meaningful home culture.

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Denise Trull of The Inscapist:

I have acquired the habit, in my older age, of rising early on Christmas Eve and simply wandering around the house sipping my coffee and absorbing the delicious ambiance of sight, sound, and smell. It is a scene brimming with traditions: some dating back to the time my children jokingly refer to as the “ancient mists” of my own childhood, and some more recent that have seamlessly merged with the past as the years marched on and we grew almost imperceptibly into our own unique version of the domestic Church.

There is the smell of allspice filling the whole house as the Canadian pork pies are assembled and cooked from the very recipe card my own mother wrote out for me in her sprawling hand, and her mother wrote out for her long ago. There is the smell of Kulich bread, a nod to my husband’s Germanic heritage, rising in its yeasty splendor on the back of the stove - bread we will eat on Christmas morning with generous mounds of butter. That taste of bread still evokes the sound of wrapping paper flying amidst the spontaneous oohs and ahhs at thoughtful presents given and received. The crystal champagne flutes I inherited, glowing with readiness on their silver tray for the bubbly to be poured after Midnight Mass. A sight that reminds me so vividly of my own mother on Christmases past greeting us at the front door in her long, embroidered skirt and silk blouse with a merry, “Joyeaux Noel!” Oh, and the sonorous memory of my father’s deep bass voice toasting to the glory of God and the newborn King. I became that mother eventually and my husband’s voice made the toast. Champagne will always carry that cachet for me. Of Christmas Eve as it shone through the candlelit crystal.

The tree is laden with memories. Baby’s first Christmas, the Kindergarten ornament heavy with glitter. The angels my sister, with impeccable taste, always gave to me each year. These ornaments tell a whole life story and that’s a fact. There is the very moment my two little boys met Santa for the first time captured by the artist hand of their perceptive uncle and framed on the mantlepiece. There is all the Christmas music we love blaring happily as we wrap presents at the dining room table. I smile at the hand painted, wooden crèche made exclusively for little hands to play with by my oldest sister that has lasted unto the second age of grandchildren. And the music: the Renaissance wonders, King’s College, Medieval beauties. Mannheim Steamroller. Books. My mom and dad’s clever handiwork everywhere in carved wood and embroidery. The Madonna my husband surprised me with one year - because he had heard me say that I loved her once in passing.

Without tradition, there would be no gratitude. Gratitude for children born in a house that had long been a home and new traditions now vining once again to a new, downsized apartment - filled with the same smells, sights, sounds. This is our domestic Church, built with such small things bringing with them such powerful effect.

Gazing and pondering on these settled traditions on the morning of Christmas Eve makes me realize that indeed, like old George Bailey, I really have had a wonderful life. Blessed be God forever!

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Kathryn Haines of Everyday Eden with Kathryn Haines:

Each year, as I bake cookies alongside my children, volunteer in our church’s annual Christmas pageant, read the favorite storybooks, wrap gifts, and genuinely move at an alarming rate through December, I always find myself grateful for the arrival of Christmastide. In our family, Christmastide is a sacred family occasion free from the obligations and daily distractions of our regular rhythm and routines, where one is can usually be found nestled in a favorite spot, draped in blankets, a drink in hand, and trying to mentally calculate what day it is. As a homeschool mom, writer, wife, and friend who occasionally texts back, the Advent season can fly by in a festive whirl of Christmas lights, popsicle stick crafts, and general magic-making.

But for us, Christmastide is a chance to shut ourselves in, turn our cell phones off, and enjoy the last lingering gifts of the season: cookies left on our porch by a neighbor, family game night by the fire, and going on hot chocolate hikes through the North Carolina mountains. Are favorite annual tradition came from my beloved friend Sally Clarkson and it’s one that we save for the week between Christmas and New Year is our annual Family Day! Each year, we gather as a family and write down all the ways we have seen God move in our lives in the previous year. From the small things, like meeting a new family at church, to the big things like answering an earnestly prayed prayer. We have our kids join in and we also list all the things we are praying for in the upcoming year. Our oldest is six and we have a leather binder filled with six years of the story God is writing in our family’s life and all the ways He has been so good to us! As we close out the end of one year and enter into the next during Christmastide, it’s became our favorite family tradition!

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Lane Scott of Matriarch Goals:

The Christmas Season in our house means first and foremost an absence of work; my husband normally works twelve to fourteen-hour days running an American manufacturing company, and during Christmastide he actually takes some time off to celebrate with us. The gift of my husband’s increased presence in the family’s daily activities alone makes Christmas feel different than any other time of year.

Over the years, our rural community of California Gold Country ranchers have developed a tradition of visiting each others’ houses during Christmas, bringing gifts we make ourselves off the fat of the land and the fruits of our labor all summer and fall. So far this year, I’ve received home-cured olives, wax peppers, sausage, alcohol, beef tallow, flower and vegetable seeds, honey, and all manner of candy and sweets, tucked and labeled into mason jars. I usually give my friends plants, bulbs, and flowers for their homes to brighten the coming dull and freezing winter months. We also pass out homemade tomato sauce from the summer garden, salsa, or applesauce from our orchard.

California weather is so mild that our busy summer and fall ranching season often extends well into December; but come Christmas we are finally forced indoors by rain or freezing temperatures, which mark the end of a nine-month growing season. We gave our Belted Galloway steer forty-five days of grain to finish him for butchering mid-December, and the meat shop will deliver all our glorious home-raised and grass-fed beef cut, wrapped, frozen, and labeled next week—all except for the giant prime rib roast, which he sets aside in the cooler so we can have it fresh and never-frozen on New Year’s Day.

This year we will drive 2.5 hours west to see the San Francisco Ballet perform The Nutcracker on the 27th, and one hour east into the Sierras for skiing and sledding in our 1970s time-capsuled, one-horse mountain ski lodge. A few community meetups for flag football and ultimate frisbee once the weather clears will round out a perfect Christmas season packed with feasting, visiting, caroling, and enjoying all the fruits of our family’s and community’s labors in 2025.