Hosting is bloomin’ hard . . . but incredibly rewarding. I didn’t appreciate just how complete the challenge hosting was until we did so this Christmas. It’s probably one of the most concentrated forms of sacrificial love, and I wish I’d more known that sooner to better appreciate all of those in my life who’ve hosted me. Beyond the money spent and gifts wrapped, it’s the conscious decision-making that goes into the menu, the schedule, the bedding, towels, room arrangement, etc., that can make a body feel welcome as a valued member of the household or more like an imposition. It’s two months of preparation for two days of frivolity, and I can’t recommend it enough. The near-constant denial of self while fetching drinks, moving vehicles, juggling food and conversation, and having fun so one’s guests are having fun is a ride like none other.

This year, we had family over from Michigan, North Carolina, Chicago, and the other side of town, and it was a fabulous time. My wife hadn’t seen some of her family in a couple of years due to her condition, so Em’s joy (and relatively phenomenal health over the duration) was brighter than anything on the tree. Costco’s deli provided many of the mains, so my cooking was reserved for making chocolate chip banana bread, cookies that didn’t make it to Christmas Day, homemade tortilla chips, and honey butter.

With so many out-of-towners, Spotted Cow was the obvious choice for beer, with a couple of supersized wine bottles and sparkling water to round out the offerings. With so much food on standby, the drinks were relegated to our 800 sq. ft. walk-in Midwestern fridge, otherwise known as the garage — I figured out that my lumber cart, when rolled up to the doorway, was the perfect spot to display the drinks within stocking-footed reach of the doorway.

Did everything go as I planned in the pre-Christmas prepping frenzy? No, absolutely not. Did a cat decide that expressing her discontent with the changed status quo was best done by emptying her innards? Yes. Was our table too small to really accommodate everyone? Yeah. But a few board games unplayed, a little bit of clean-up, and getting cozy with each other were just fine for everyone. At the end of the day, the prayers of gratitude were genuine, the affection palpable, and the stomachs more than full.

The last thing I’d note is that, among the many other merits of children, one cannot celebrate Christmas without a munchkin or two around. There’s a sacred magic to how they see this celebration of Christ’s birth (they are, after all, closest to where he was). Their wonderment and seriousness concerning each event — and the dissipation of adults’ self-consciousness while engaging in the wonder — is such a treat. Plus, they’re all at the age where rasslin’ with their uncle is the best thing ever, so if anyone were looking in our windows, they’d see kids flying onto couches left and right and then gleefully jumping up to get launched again.

It was, truly, a very merry Christmas, and I hope yours was, too.

If you’re hunting for quality items to read between now and the new year, here’s a collection of National Review pieces in which you’ll find something of merit.