Here I Raise My Ebenezer: Tour De Christmas

Ask any member of my family. I am a sucker for tradition. Anything that has the word "annual" is amazing in my book. Some may say I go out of my way to create it. But, some things become tradition without being planned. Without organization. Such is the tradition of making cookies with my mom. We have literally done it "since before I can remember." It just wouldn't be Christmas without it.

It started as a tradition to send cookies to my grandparents when they lived in Florida. We'd make them every year, and send them in the same cookie tin. Inside the tin was a piece of cardboard with each year written on it. And each year the cookies arrived in Florida, my grandpa would cross of the year and send the tin back. And the tradition continued the following year. It was like a cookie-making tally sheet. Keeping track of all the memories you couldn't fit into a round tin. And it continued until my grandparents passed away.

Now, we no longer send any cookies away in a round tin, but there are some things you can count on in the cookie-making-process.

1. I will (and have, since I can remember) eat dabs of flour. It's gross, I know. But for some reason, I can't help it.

2. There will be Christmas music playing in the background.

3. There will always be at least one battle in which the cookie gets stuck in the cutter, and the cutter inevitably wins. And words are exchanged. The end.

4. I will always "accidentally" make a Tiny Tim cookie, and say "God Bless us, each one!" When he comes off the cookie sheet. Exhibit A:

This year, since next year's cookie baking will look quite different, there were some tears shed. It's one of those realities that sinks in and then you move on from it. Next year will be different. It will be okay. Hard. But different. I hope to make these cookies next year in Uganda. I hope they have Vanilla. I hope my mom can survive without the Tiny Tim cookie cutter because I definitely have it in a tub of "Stuff to take to Uganda."