When I was growing up, my family didn’t have traditions. We didn’t celebrate anything. Up until a certain age, I had birthday parties and I received presents for my birthday and Hannukah, and then one year, everything just stopped.

I don’t remember if I ever asked why or if anyone ever talked about it, but it all just disappeared as if it had never actually existed. Maybe that’s when the breaking of my family began, but it probably started long before that.

And then I had kids of my own and all things traditional and celebratory were a big deal to me. I wanted my kids to have all the things I didn’t have, to be celebrated, to feel special, wanted, loved. I have not been over the top on decorating or gift giving as I needed to find that happy medium having come from nothing and having nothing to compare to. In fact, it has been a struggle at times. My husband and I just started doing things with our kids that were special and then began to repeat them year after year. I guess that’s how traditions are born.

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Thirteen years ago, my husband got on the fire department. Firefighter schedules don’t care about birthdays, holidays, or traditions. They just are what they are. This year my husband has to work on Thanksgiving and Christmas. That has never happened before. So, after much thought, I presented my husband with the idea of celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve. I thought surely the boys are at an age (16, 14, 12) that they would accept this is how life and our schedule is.

I could not have been more wrong. My idea was not well received. In fact, two of our three boys said they would not open any gifts until Christmas morning. I wasn’t completely surprised by their response, but I did think there would be some wiggle room to work together. I thought to myself, “What a bunch of babies.”

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A few days later I asked my husband about doing Christmas at 5 a.m. Christmas morning. He agreed that would work, so we brought this new idea to the table, and it was received with a unanimous yes and an enthusiastic, “That’s a much better idea.” Again, I thought, “What a bunch of babies.”

As a product of a broken home, a member of a family that held no traditions for me to pass down to my children, somewhere along the way we created these meaningful traditions for our boys. I’m awestruck at the simple beauty of that statement. For me, it’s a redemption story, knowing that God can take broken things and make them new, that He can use me no matter where I came from, and that He gives good gifts to His children not because we deserve them, but because He loves us. I just feel so blessed that despite our unusual and sometimes wacky schedule, that we created what I never knew, that we have given our kids what I never had. This holiday season, I can count that amongst my biggest blessings.