The Sunday before Christmas, my extended family gathered for a holiday meal and gift exchange to celebrate the season together. My sister has hosted this event since my Mom and Dad became physically unable to do so. My Mom and Dad were in their late 80s when they passed and had hosted our family gathering for over 60 years. That is a lot of tradition—and a lot of love—handed down.

As a youngster, my brothers, sister, and I went to our Grandmom’s home every Christmas until she became too frail to host all her children and grandchildren. Like my sister, my Mom eventually took over those responsibilities—planning and preparing for 30 to 40 guests or more. Our family is not unique in this tradition. I share it today, as the year ends, to call attention to the values and gifts that traditions of connection offer us.

For three generations, this gathering has been part of our Christmas celebration. This year, thirty-eight people—from ages seven months to seventy-seven—convened at my sister’s home. Like most family gatherings, there was a mix of peace, love, and chaos, with too many people in one house for four or five hours.

To me, this gathering is a placeholder—and an inspiration—for hope. It powerfully reminds me that each small act of love and service has an enormous and often unknown multiplier effect. We teach those closest to us the power of love and kindness when we continue to show up for one another.

No one involved, now or in the past, is perfect. There are often glitches, small disconnects, tensions, and the normal human anxiety that comes with putting on any event. What I—and others—are learning over the years are the habits of loving and caring, and when needed, of accepting and forgiving. We’ve learned which actions foster connection and which create harm, for others and for ourselves. We stay together by focusing on the good.

As I reflect on our gatherings, I’m reminded that healing and moving past old wounds and blind spots can’t be done alone. Sometimes this healing happens in families. Other times, we find it in communities that feel safe and guide us out of fear and resentment. We learn how to appropriately express and release anger, say “I’m sorry” when needed, and return to a heart that is more open and able to love.

As 2025 comes to an end, we live daily in a world challenged by hatred and war. We often struggle to offer one another compassion and love—or even to believe that we truly need one another. My hope for 2026 rests in the faith, love, and traditions of this season of light, new birth, and possibility.

We all know what love is and have experienced it in one way or another, including those of us—myself included—who struggled for years to fully accept and trust its power.

Might we all hope and pray that the power of love, in families, communities, friendships, and wherever we find it, will continue to grow. As it grows, our inclinations toward war, hatred, and inequality may diminish, and we may yet give peace a chance. May 2026 lead us more fully toward faith, hope, and trust in love and its power.