By Kelcie Huffstickler, Blogger of the Month

It was the first Christmas after Tyler and I were married, and we were back in his hometown, sitting at his parents’ kitchen table. We were both in college, but when we came home for weekends or holidays, we were kids again – catered to, doted over and cleaned up after.
It was Christmas Eve, the designated night for us to celebrate with his family. And the fragrance of juicy, marinated rib-eyes filled the small, cozy home. My mother-in-law’s steaks were and are my favorite meal, and my stomach was giddy with anticipation. She sang Christmas carols as she danced about the kitchen, buttering rolls, sweetening tea, and retrieving baked potatoes from the oven. “I’m just so happy to have all my family home!” she declared between verses.
In the next room, red and white stockings hung from a coat rack with each of our names penned in my mother-in-law’s writing, and a modest tree with colored lights twinkled above a sea of presents. A tacky, electric Santa sang and moved robotically, adding to the festive mood. And on the TV, A Christmas Story played over and over, as my new husband and his brother quoted their favorite movie’s lines verbatim.
Back in the kitchen, the five of us sat down for a Christmas feast: me, my husband, his brother, my mother-in-law and my father-in-law, who only moved off the “back porch” and into the kitchen to eat for special occasions. This was certainly one of them. We stuffed ourselves ‘til we were nearly sick, packing in every dripping morsel, then moved into the living room to open gifts. My mother-in-law glowed as we opened the presents she had thoughtfully purchased and wrapped and laughed jovially as we enjoyed the evening together.
It was a night to remember.
Now seven years later, things have changed. My husband’s family – my family – is navigating life paths none of us foresaw. Things like divorce and economic hardship have changed every aspect of their lives. I don’t know if there will be stockings hung in that small, cozy house this Christmas, but if there are, they won’t have our names on them.
Though things have changed a great deal, memories of Christmases, 4th of Julys, and regular ole Saturday nights with my “other” family are still thriving. I know my mother-in-law, in particular, grieves the loss of what was and regrets she can’t still give us the gifts of home and togetherness. What she may not realize, though, is that the joy created in that home is still rippling in each of our lives, mine included.
People change and grow and move on with their lives, and that’s just the way it is. But as I move on with mine, I’ll always carry that first Christmas in my heart. It’s wrapped as tightly as those presents sprawled out under the tree, and no amount of time, change, or hardship can take it from me.