In Christianity, the twelve days of Christmas and its festivities begin the evening of December 25th, Christmas Day, and run through the morning of January 6th, otherwise known as Epiphany. Epiphany is a feast celebrating the revelation of God to mankind in human form, as Jesus Christ. In fact, in the Eastern Christian church, January 6th is still treated as the day of Jesus's birth and is celebrated as such.
Growing up, my Louisiana family always treated the Christmas season as if it ran until January 6th. I just assumed it was because the Mardi Gras season started the next day. God and Jesus didn't play much of a role in leaving our decorations up until a week and a half after Christmas Day. Clearly, we were a family of heathens and my family's "tradition" didn't mean much to me. As an adult, however, the Twelfth Day of Christmas has come to mean so much more.
On Twelfth Night in 2006, I couldn't sleep. I was 8 months pregnant and scheduled to deliver the next morning. On the eve of the birth of my second son I was worried, of course. Worried that we were having our children too close together. (We were.) Worried that we were going to be overwhelmed. (We were.) And worried that our oldest was getting the short end of the stick and would suffer from the loss of our undivided attention. (We were first time parents. Give us a break!)
I also worried that I couldn't possibly love another child as much as I loved my first.
Continue reading The Twelth Day of Christmas....
