Last year some friends of mine invited me to a small, impromptu Twelfth Night gathering. There were only four of us, and we had the merriest time playing games and talking about our new year. We turned off all the lights and watched as a cake was doused in rum and then lit aflame with a sudden whoosh.

It put me in mind of how there is so much joy in observing rituals. It is a power I do not wish to ignore. This year, I have decided to celebrate the twelve days of Christmas by doing something special on each day leading up to Twelfth Night.

I often have trouble celebrating. There is a little voice inside that whispers, “You can do more work when this is done.” It makes me want to rush through and not savor what is in front of me. As a result, this practice of drawing the celebrating out for nearly two weeks is a tough one. I have decided to try and celebrate in some small way many things that Christ has redeemed by his coming to earth.

For Christmas Day, I went to a morning service at my church. This was not how I was raised. We had church on Sunday during Christmas Week, but not the day of Christmas. There may have been some reminder of Christmas coming, with carol singing and a focus on a passage from one of the Gospels.

This year, though, I had weeks of Advent readings poured over me, the better to sit and soak. At Lessons and Carols the night before, I felt deeply that Christ is real and present, a light shining in what often feels like a very dark and desolate world. We sang a song about the day of peace that dimly shines ahead of us. It felt very near this year. There was a flame lit inside everyone at the Christmas service the next morning. It stayed with me all day.

I celebrated with friends over a long brunch. We had eggs, pão de queijo (Brazilian cheese puffs), coffee, and scones. Then gift giving, memory sharing, and a shared contemplation of Christ’s coming. This was followed by the most beautiful Yule log I have ever seen and small glasses of brandy. T’was a good celebration: rich, delightful, and deep.

Today, the second day of my Twelve Days of Christmas, is what is traditionally known as Boxing Day. I used to picture men in boxers swinging punches at one another accompanied by the deep baying of boxer dogs. “Boxing Day”. I was wrong. Boxing Day comes to us from the practice of boxing things up and giving them to people. There is also record of staff for English aristocracy having the day after Christmas off. This was when they received their “boxes” or gifts.

Today, in the spirit of this Boxing Day practice, I went through my closet and drawers and chose items to donate. It was a good reminder: whenever I give something away it is only because Christ has given it to me first. I do not have to be afraid of giving things away because in Christ there is all the abundance I could ever need.

I also have one book that is providing structure for me: The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper. Someone mentioned this as a book to read during the Twelve Days because it is set during the winter in an English village. It also has thirteen chapters. I started it on Christmas Eve, and have read one chapter a day since then. I like having it as a sort of prop because reading only one chapter a day works against my usual inclination to eat a book of this size in one glorious, reading soaked afternoon. I also have more time to sit with what Susan Cooper is doing through the story. I look forward to writing more about it at the end of the Twelve Days.

Farewell for now!