Christmas looks different for us now.

Different in ways I never imagined I’d have to navigate…

and different in ways that stretch my heart with both gratitude and ache.

If you’ve walked through loss during the holidays, you know exactly what I mean. The season becomes a patchwork of memories —

some so precious they feel like warm light, and others so painful they take your breath away.

This is my second Christmas without my husband, my best friend, my partner in everything,

and I’m learning — slowly and tenderly — how to live in the tension between what was and what is.

Today I found myself standing in front of last-minute stocking stuffers and groceries at almost 5 PM…

still in my leopard pajamas… still overwhelmed by the weight of the season.

Leopard Print Pjs with Christmas Must Haves

And while yes, I’m thankful for quick deliveries and easy options (I’ll link the ones that helped me HERE – just in case you are also struggling with teens and young adults too), the deeper truth is this:

No delivery, checklist, recipe, or last-minute scramble can fill the space where someone you love should be. It's an ache that is just indescribable.

And yet… somehow we still show up.

Somehow we still create Christmas. Somehow we keep loving our families one moment at a time begging for grace along the way!

The Blessing and the Heartbreak of Having Older Kids Who Remember

One thing I’m deeply thankful for this year is that my kids are older — they have real, vivid, precious memories with their dad. Memories that shaped them.

Memories that built our family. Memories that matter.

But that gift?
It’s also part of what makes this season harder.

Because they remember.
They remember how he served up his favorite breakfast casserole.
They remember the jokes he told.
They remember the way he’d blast Christmas music until the house shook.
They remember the traditions he cared about… the little things only dads do.

And those memories are treasures — but they’re also reminders of what we’re missing.

There is something uniquely painful about raising kids who have enough memories to ache.
And at the same time… something incredibly beautiful about raising kids who had a daddy worth missing.

This Christmas, I’m trying to balance honoring those memories while also giving my kids permission to experience joy in this new chapter.

I want them to know they don’t have to hide their sadness — but they also don’t have to feel guilty for laughing, smiling, or rebuilding.

This Christmas was extra special to this mama, and probably seemed so familiar to the rest of my family. This is the year that both of my younger kids – Fisher & Lily were in the children's choir at church for Christmas Eve service.

Just look at the sweet innocence and wonder in their eyes. Truly gives me all the feels.

This photo captures how precious that moment was and now I look back and realize how fleeting it truly is.

Fisher and Lily singing in children's choir for Christmas Eve

Grief is not a single emotion. It’s a whole season of learning to live again.

I have learned that life comes in seasons… whether or not we want them to.. they do.

I am not sure you can relate, but I have found myself in the IN Between seasons of motherhood many of times however this season is eerily similar but different in so many ways so hard to really put into words.

Christmas in a Season of Letting Go

One of the hardest lessons grief has taught me is this:

Not everything needs to come with us into a new season.

We don’t have to force traditions that break us wide open.
We don’t have to pretend things are the same.
We don’t have to recreate what can’t be recreated.

This year, I’m letting go of some things I used to do without thinking:

the giant holiday spread
the perfectly decorated family room
the rushed schedule filled with events and gatherings

Not because I don’t care.
But because I’m learning the sacred art of choosing less so I can feel more.

I actually find myself caring even more. Or maybe better said… appreciating more.

Less pressure.
Less performance.
Less perfection.

More presence.
More tenderness.

More room for the real emotions that come with grief — especially at Christmas.

Christmas Eve Candle Lit service of Lori and Quintin

And Yet… Some Traditions I’m Holding Onto Tightly

Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting.
Grief doesn’t erase love — it deepens it.

There are certain traditions I’m clinging to with both hands this year, because they connect us to him… and to each other.

One of those traditions is our Conway Christmas Punch — a simple recipe my kids look forward to every December.

Even on years when I don’t have the energy for a full spread, I can still make the punch. And somehow, that one small act feels like stability in a season that often feels shaky.

Keeping this tradition alive is my way of saying:

“We’re still a family. We’re still us. We’re still moving forward — even in loss.”

You don’t need to do everything you once did.
You don’t need to create a picture-perfect holiday.

Sometimes the most meaningful traditions are the smallest ones.

Embracing What’s New — Even When It Feels Scary

This is the part grief doesn’t prepare you for:
new traditions feel like betrayal until you realize they’re actually evidence of growth. This is something I have to continue to repeat to myself.

We aren’t replacing the past — we’re making room for the future.

New traditions don’t mean we’ve forgotten him.

They don’t mean the grief is gone.

They don’t mean the memories have faded.

They simply mean we are learning to carry both:

the ache of what will never be again + the beauty of what still can be.

This year, we’re trying a few new things — nothing big, nothing elaborate — but small steps toward shaping this season into something sustainable for our hearts.

And you know what?
It feels… tender.
But it also feels like healing.

If You’re in a Season of Letting Go, You’re Not Alone

Maybe you’re grieving a spouse.
Maybe you’re going through divorce.
Maybe your kids are with someone else this holiday.

Maybe you’re a solo parent trying to make magic out of thin emotional energy.
Maybe your heart is just heavy this year for reasons no one sees.

Whatever your story is —

You’re allowed to let go of the traditions that hurt.

You’re allowed to hold tightly to the ones that comfort.

And you’re allowed to create brand-new ones that carry you forward.

There is no “right” Christmas.
Only a meaningful one — and meaningful looks different in every season.

So Today, This Crazy Busy Mama Is Choosing Presence Over Perfection

I may not have the whole holiday menu planned.
I may not have every stocking stuffed three weeks early.
I may still be in my leopard pajamas at 5 PM trying to gather my thoughts and my groceries.

But I have my kids.
I have our memories.
I have our new beginnings.
And I have our Christmas punch ingredients — which, let’s be honest, might be the only thing I get fully right this year.

And that is enough.

Because Christmas isn’t about performance.
It’s about togetherness.
About love.
About honoring the past while gently welcoming the future.

If you’re walking through a similar season, I’d truly love to hear from you in the comments below.
Your stories matter.
Your grief matters.
Your memories matter.
And your new beginnings matter too.

📌 Conway Christmas Punch Recipe Card

Name: Conway Christmas Punch Recipe Card
Prep time: 5 min
Total time: 5 min
Ingredients: 64 oz Hawaiian Punch (Red); 33 oz Sprite; 24 oz Sherbet (we love Raspberry but any will do); orange slices; lime slices; cherries; any fruit

Prep Time: 5 minutes
Total Time: 5 minutes
Servings: 12–15 cups

✨ Ingredients

64 oz Hawaiian Red Punch
33oz Sprite
24 oz frozen raspberry sherbet (just scoop right in)
Optional: fresh limes, orange slices, maraschino cherries for garnish

🍒 Instructions

Pour Hawaiian Punch and Sprite into a large punch bowl.
Add sherbet by the scoop full and let it set on top.
If not serving right away, Add lemon-lime soda just before serving for maximum fizz.
Add orange slices, cherries, fresh limes, orange slices, maraschino cherries for garnish— freeze them ahead to create a natural “ice cube” effect.
Serve chilled and enjoy a taste of our family Christmas tradition.

You can find a full recipe of our Conway Christmas PUNCH HERE

A Final Word from My Heart to Yours

If you are navigating grief this Christmas, I pray you feel seen.
I pray you feel understood.
I pray you find small moments of joy that break through the heaviness.

And I hope you feel the freedom to shape this season into something that fits your heart — whether that means letting go, holding on, or building something brand new.

I would truly love for you to share in the comments below:
What traditions are you keeping?
What traditions are you letting go of?
And what new ones are you brave enough to try?

Your voice could encourage another grieving mama who desperately needs to know she isn’t alone. ❤️

Much Love to you and yours this Holiday Season ❤️

Lori – Crazy Busy Mama

A picture of the sweetest of Christmas' of past, of my sweet Lily to remind us to cherish each moment ❤️ Life is but a vapor friends. My prayer is you lean into the truest reason of the season this Christmas as we celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that no matter our circumstances we have HOPE for tomorrow.

Here is the sweetest of throwbacks of Fisher with our Conway Christmas Punch.

Here is the sweetest of videos of that memorable Christmas where all of our kids still believed.

Please don't forget to leave a comment with the traditions that you are leaning into this season.