Yesterday was Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of joy in the Advent season. Over the weekend, our family celebrated Christmas, beginning with Winterfest at Carowinds on Friday (for those that know, think Cedar Point in Christmas lights!), and ending with wigilia, the traditional Polish Christmas dinner on Saturday evening. Our annual gingerbread house decorating party was in-between.

Labor for the houses began Wednesday with a full day of baking. Each house consists of four sides, two roof pieces and a ridge beam. We were going for a ten-house subdivision, so by the time I finished baking, my kitchen and dining room smelled like Christmas with the scents of ginger, cinnamon, and allspice.

The Ohio ‘construction crew’ arrived Thursday evening, and after dinner we began assembling the houses. After making these houses for five or six years, I finally have the icing ‘glue’ perfected–the pieces no longer slide out of place during construction, and it doesn’t take hours for the glue to hold. Even so, having extra hands to hold walls in place while icing was applied made for quick work. We finished the walls and left the roofs for the following morning, but already our subdivision was taking shape. If one concentrated enough, you could envision roads between the houses and hear the syncopated banging of hammers, the whirring of electric saws, the air pop of generators, and the music of a construction site.

By Friday afternoon, the houses were built and ready for the decorators and staging pros who were arriving on Saturday. Only one roof piece had slipped out of place overnight, but one of the Grands decided the overhang made a nice lean-to for firewood storage, and the gap between roof pieces was simply a skylight … or the place where Santa entered to leave gifts.

I’m sorry I don’t post pics of the Grands, but gathered around two tables was our fourteen-year-old granddaughter who dyes her hair half electric blue and half hot pink, her eleven-year-old brother who has an opinion on everything, our seven-year-old whose side-eyes are harbingers of huge smiles and giggles, one of our five-year-olds who’s introspective, observant and inquisitive, and his two-year-old brother who already likes a good joke and pulling pranks. A blessed mix of personalities yet all incredibly sweet in their own way.

Scattered around the crew were bowls and trays of M&Ms, Dots, green and red gumdrops, peppermint Kisses, Nerd ropes (they make perfect Christmas lights when glued to the eaves), and other assorted candies. This year I also had small non-edible Christmas decorations–cats in stocking caps, snowmen, gingerbread men, Santa, sparkly trees. Not even the two-year-old attempted to eat the non-edibles.

Usually, this activity lasts about twenty minutes with architectural results leaning more toward a minimalist design–a handful of gumdrops, a Nerd rope and we’re done. We apparently have new decorators this year because Saturday they were at it for over an hour, with plenty of silliness, laughter, concentration, artistic freedom, trading and bartering for candy and decorations and encouragement. The results could not have been more creative, clever, and diverse, with everyone oohing and ahhing over each other’s houses, and pointing out the feature they wished they would’ve thought of.

During dinner we stored all the houses in the laundry room and every time anyone went in for something, they came out smiling because of the aroma.

As I looked at our little subdivision, I couldn’t help but think of the bigger picture: how each person had access to the same materials, yet created something unique; how the uniqueness of each house added to the beauty of the village; how even those houses that weren’t constructed perfectly or were a little wonky, still became part of the village (Well, except one we glued the walls incorrectly so the roof didn’t fit. That one will be demoed and the scraps consumed with hot chocolate and coffee.). Is there a lesson in there of acceptance, appreciation, inclusivity?

That even in brokenness there can be hope?                        

Not everyone was here this weekend. A bout of strep kept two away, and like many families, estrangement and miles kept away people we love and wished were with us. After we shared our oplatki, and I began the meal prayer, I got only Bless us O Lord out before the tears came and I couldn’t finish. I knew at the moment they were tears of joy for the weekend and of sorrow for empty places, but as I worked on this post, I realized the difference in the prayer itself. The words weren’t words of petition, as they normally are, but words of acknowledgement of what I already have.

I don’t often post pics of myself, but Hubby caught this one during the gingerbread house decorating–this is joy.

From my home to yours, (though not my gingerbread house creation!), may you experience the joy and peace of the season, and may the New Year bring good health and all the sweetness and spice of gingerbread. I’ll see you in 2024!