My wife and I hosted Christmas in our home, as we do every year. We open our doors to any and all and offer chili, cornbread, and sweets to friends and family who want to join us.
In the past, people have dropped by for 15 minutes or stayed all day.
This year’s guest list was interesting. We had fewer people than usual join us, but the people who did were an exceptionally diverse bunch.
Oddly enough, no one who stopped by knew anyone else who stopped by except for Elysha and me. As many people as Elysha and I know were strangers to each other, yet the house was filled with conversation and laughter.
I like to think that this is what Christmas is all about.
The way we met these people was just as diverse:
A storyteller whom I met while performing in New York four years ago.
A storyteller whom I met while performing in Boston last year.
A woman whom Elysha met while standing in line at the doctor’s office three years ago.
That woman’s brother, whom we met at a party last year.
That woman’s son.
A man who we met at a Speak Up performance this year.
Elysha’s former fifth-grade student, whom she taught more than a decade ago
A former colleague from 17 years ago has become a Speak Up storyteller and book collaborator.
Her husband.
A woman whom Elysha met at My Gym classes four years ago.
Her husband.
Their three children.
They came in as strangers but left as a group who shared a part of their Christmas day together.
