We marked the Christmas season piece by piece with an advent puzzle. It turned into one of my most treasured and delightful memories. Just the three of us—Andy, Sam, and me—tipped open a small box of a few puzzle pieces each day of the advent season. We flipped and sorted and snapped together a section and day by day built a much larger puzzle.

We did the whole puzzle together—always waiting until we were all together to gather around the low coffee table. It was pleasant and quiet and joyful. 

Pleasant. Quiet. Joyful. This has always been my hope for the advent season. For many years it felt just out of reach with wisps of possibility in the wee hours while the world is dark. Throughout the day, I steadied my heart to cling to peace even as chaos stormed throughout the season. Many years we lived with the hard truth that holidays can swirl mighty and ugly emotions for those who experience childhood trauma.

This year the peace that was steady in my heart matched the peace settling around our home. It was just the three of us; just the three of us who have always lived with security and love; just the three of us who know how to accept and give love and grace. Just the three of us who gather around a table to snap together a few jigsaw pieces that somehow acted as salve to healing still happening in my heart.

The last day of the puzzle had 10 hands sorting and flipping and snapping. Hannah and Jordan arrived home. They gathered around the table and I reminded myself things can change. People can heal. We can put together the final pieces of a puzzle without disaster brewing. The las piece was missing, and we all looked under the table and under ourselves and under the dog, when Sam dramatically pulled it out of his pocket, making us all laugh as he snapped in the final piece, and peace snapped around all of us. 

Pleasant. Quiet. Joyful. 

It was the Christmas season I thought was a pipe dream, but then one day became reality.