As the series concludes, I share this guest post (and cookie recipe!) from our youngest guest blogger. Alyssa helps us to reflect on how our families are made of individuals who grow and change over the year. And perhaps these changes are why traditions are so cherished, grounding and reuniting ever-changing individuals together at the holiday table to reaffirm and reaccept our cherished loved ones. ~Gwendolyn

Special Guest Post by Alyssa Stadtlander

I’ve always loved coming home for Christmas. The anticipation of returning from college in snowy December each year propelled me through a grueling finals week. The knowledge of a home waiting for me, ready for the holidays, motivated me, without fail, to crank out that last essay. Snuggling up under my grandmother’s handmade quilt in the soft glow of our decorated Christmas tree would be my reward for my efforts. But each year, as the plane touched down on the tarmac, I worried. I had grown over the semester, and was not the same person I was when I left the previous summer. Would there be room for this new woman I was becoming? Conversely, as college students sometimes tend to do, I forgot that while I left the nest to test my wings, my family at home had deeply formative experiences all their own. Could I learn to reconsider them, just as I hoped they would reconsider me? I’ve carried these questions into adulthood, and at the end of another pandemic year, they seem more necessary than ever.

My family are Christmas people: tree-decorating-the-day-after-Thanksgiving, snowman-building, sleeping-under-the-Christmas-tree-on-Christmas-Eve people. But my favorite Christmas tradition (of which there are many) is blasting the holiday records of Jim Brickman or The Mannheim Steamrollers while unearthing the overstuffed bag of cookie cutters from the cramped bottom kitchen drawer and baking sugar cookies.

When we first started the tradition, I stood on the chair in our little kitchen, sleeves haphazardly rolled up, while my baby sister sat on the tabletop as we dumped a choke-worthy amount of sprinkles onto the soft white icing, licking the leftovers from our grubby fingers. As our (cleaner) hands grew to reach the table, our house shifted from a tiny starter home to one with an equally small kitchen but an extra bedroom to include a little brother (and two poodles). The kitchen table itself aged into a wobbly creaking thing, replaced with a hand-me-down mahogany one that was ruined instantly by fingernail polish remover, and therefore replaced a third time. It joined its predecessors, buried beneath Barbie dolls and basketballs, keys and water bottles, headphones and homework, and usually, a vase full of flowers. And, no matter the size or the amount of people around it, at Christmastime it cherishes (I imagine) an abundance of cookies, crumbs and sprinkles.

“...Make room for newness at the table of our hearts, to reconsider, to join together in our differences, and to cherish...”

— Alyssa

Lately, though, our Christmas traditions are, while delightful, different. With four grown-ups and a teenager, we don’t fit so cozily under the tree like we used to, literally and figuratively. It feels especially true this year, almost two years since the start of the pandemic, because so much has changed from last year to now, and from holidays past. The person we bring to the table is not the same person we brought last Christmas, or the Christmas before. Though our traditions press on, they shift necessarily, because we do, too.

This year, what would it look like to bring our whole in-progress selves to the table of tradition? We long for understanding from those closest to us, for the permission to say I’m not the same as I used to be! What would it look like to remember that loved ones around us also crave to be known anew? How can we embody a spirit of curiosity this holiday as we gather in the middle of our own traditions? How can we make space for change?

My family and I are figuring this out again, too. Through the transitions into adulthood, additions of new partners and family members, full time work schedules, and traditions squeezed in the cracks, we are learning to show up for each other with flexibility and love. To listen more than we speak. To, as my mother always reminds me, cut out the cookies at the edge of the dough to allow for more cookies in each batch. To make room for newness at the table of our hearts, to reconsider, to join together in our differences, and to cherish the warm kitchen. Each year, as we return home, in the magic way it sometimes happens, we re-enter a chapter of our childhood. The heart of the place— the people, the togetherness, the recipe—persists, despite everything.

In the end, it’s just a cookie. But it’s a cookie that we make together, no matter how messy and formative the year has been. It brings us, the raw, honest, in-progress whole of us, home.

This holiday season, may we see each other with grace-filled, fresh eyes, grateful for the people we are becoming, one batch at a time.

Below is a recipe for my family's Christmas cookies. I hope they can bring your family together this year too.

Screenshot_20211003-174111~2.png — Alyssa Stadtlander

Alyssa is a poet, artist and musician living in Boise, Idaho with her family. She studied Piano and Theater at Wheaton College (IL), and currently spends her time writing essays, poetry, and songs for her personal blog, *Bird Songs and Saints*, where she writes of hope hidden in ordinary places, and tells her own story in order to encourage readers to tell their own. She is most recently published in the 2021 annual local publication “Rupture: Writers in the Attic,” by The Cabin, and is a blog contributor for the mindful faith company, “Dawn.” You can find more from Alyssa at alyssastadtlander.com, or on Instagram @lyssastadt11

Alyssa’s Christmas Sugar Cookies

Cookies Ingredients

1 cup butter

1 ½ cup sugar

3 eggs

1 tsp vanilla extract

3 ½ cup flour (plus more for countertop)

2 tsp cream of tartar

1 tsp baking soda

Frosting Ingredients

3 cups powdered sugar

⅓ cup margarine or butter, softened

1 ½ tsp vanilla extract

2 tablespoons milk

Cookie Steps

In a large mixing bowl, combine the butter and the sugar. With a stand-up or hand mixer, blend until completely smooth.
Add the eggs and vanilla, and mix.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.
Add them to the wet ingredients one cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until a thick dough forms.
Chill 3-4 hours or overnight.
After the dough has chilled, preheat the oven to 375℉. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. You may have to add more flour (up to 1 cup) until the dough does not stick to your hands.
In small batches, roll the dough out into a small circle. Using your favorite cookie cutters, cut out shapes and transfer the cut-outs onto a baking sheet.
Bake for 6-8 minutes, or until the edges turn to a very light golden.
Repeat steps 6-8 until you run out of dough!

Frosting Steps

In a large bowl, use a stand-up or hand mixer to combine the powdered sugar and butter. Stir in the vanilla and milk, and beat until smooth. If the frosting is too thin to spread on the cookies, add powdered sugar. If it’s too thick, add milk.
Spread on the cooled cookies, and decorate with your favorite toppings. Or, add food coloring to the frosting for more festive cheer. If you have a lot leftover, refrigerate and spread on graham crackers for an easy late-night snack!