When Traditions Change, Joy Can Still Come
Holding grief, welcoming new grace at Christmas Time
There are Christmases that live in our bones. And when those traditions change, it can feel like the music stops. But joy can still come—sometimes quietly, sometimes through new people, sometimes through small mercies.
Not because everything was perfect… but because love filled the rooms like music. Food simmering. Laughter spilling. Games on the table. A TV playing in the background that no one was really watching. The kind of joy that didn’t need a spotlight, because it was the light.
For years, my family’s Christmas meant gathering at my grandparents’ home in San Diego or traveling for 20 minutes to my Aunt Pearl’s home in Inglewood. Those celebrations weren’t just a date on a calendar.
They were a rhythm.
A refuge.
A tradition with a heartbeat.
People came through the door with stories, dishes, hugs, and inside jokes. Plus that familiar comfort that said: You belong here!
And then life changed, the way it does.
When my “Pappy” (my grandfather) passed away in 2003 and Auntie Pearl in 2007, something more than two beloved people was lost. The gathering place, the center of gravity shifted.
And slowly… It ended.
Maybe you know that feeling.
Not only missing the person… but missing the world that existed when they were here. Missing the way the house sounded. Missing the way you laughed. Missing the tradition you thought would always be waiting for you.
Sometimes we carry grief like a silent ornament—beautiful, fragile… always present.
When Christmas Looks Different
Here’s what I’m learning in this season:
Joy doesn’t require the same setting to be real.
It may look different. It may be smaller. It may be quieter.
But it can still be holy.
Scripture says:
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18
Close.
Not distant.
Not waiting for us to “get it together.”
Close enough to steady us when we realize the old traditions are gone… and we don’t know what comes next.
This is the kind of season where joy doesn’t arrive with fanfare, it arrives with grace.
A New Tradition Is Being Born
These days, I’m blessed to celebrate with a few coworker friends around the ages 64 to 76. Many of us without family nearby. We usually find a local restaurant that is open to serve those who are without family, friends or just don’t want the fuss of preparing meals, hosting or having to clean up behind everyone and trying to figure out where to put all the left overs, and throw away wrapping paper. Most of all, the feeling of loneliness all over again when it is all said and done.
And somehow, in God’s kindness, we’ve become a little circle of care.
We have each other.
We check in.
We laugh.
We share a meal.
We make room at the table.
And here’s the beautiful surprise:
A new tradition is being born.
Not because we planned it perfectly… but because love found a way.
That’s often how God does it. He doesn’t always replace what was lost, but He does provide what we need:
Fresh grace, fresh people, fresh moments.
“His mercies… are new every morning.” — Lamentations 3:22–23
The Small Things Are Not Small
Sometimes we underestimate the sacred weight of simple things.
But joy often arrives quietly:
cocoa or warm eggnog in a mug you actually love
a text that says, “Thinking of you”
a candle lit in a quiet room
one person who shows up and stays awhile
laughter returning, even after loss
a simple table, set with care
And if I’m honest, I feel something stirring in me too, a gentle readiness to host again.
Maybe next year, in a home the Lord provides, I’ll open my door and say:
Come in. You’re safe here. You’re wanted here.
And maybe it won’t even be on Christmas Day.
Maybe it will be a week before or after, or even a sweet prelude to New Year’s Day.
Because gathering doesn’t have to happen on a specific date to carry God’s joy.
A Christmas Reminder I Keep Coming Back To
When joy found a stable, when it found an ordinary place, it reminded us of Jesus Himself.
“She wrapped Him in cloth and placed Him in a manger.” — Luke 2:7
No grand guest list.
No perfect décor.
Just Presence.
So if your Christmas looks different this year, if traditions have shifted, if chairs at the table are empty, if family dynamics have changed, if you’re starting over please hear this:
“Traditions may change… but God does not. And His joy can still come.”
You are not doing Christmas “wrong.” You are learning how to carry love forward.
And the Lord can bless the “small”… until it becomes enough.
Gentle Reflection
🗨️Where have you noticed a small “God-wink” this season—something simple, but meaningful?
If you feel led, share it in the comments. I’d love to hear what you noticed and how it made you feel.
Closing Prayer🙏🏼
Lord,
Thank You for meeting us in the tender places—where traditions have changed and hearts feel the ache of what used to be. Comfort those who are grieving. Strengthen those who are rebuilding. Open our eyes to the small mercies You place in our days warmth, friendship, provision, and peace.
Teach us to honor what we’ve lost without losing hope for what You’re still creating. Help us carry love forward, one small step at a time. And when the day feels quiet, remind us that Your Presence is still the greatest gift.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Scriptures to Sit With📖
Psalm 34:18 • Lamentations 3:22–23 • Luke 2:7 • Ecclesiastes 3:1–4
—-Joyfully yours, Tina💖