Just a week until Christmas. The excitement was building last Friday night for my three-year-old grandson, Parks and five-year-old grandson, Baker in the midst of the Durham Bull’s Baseball Stadium. That was where we went for our holiday outing to the Wool E’s Winter Wonderland. The field was transformed by colorful flashing lights, a huge inflated snowman and reindeer, Christmas songs blasting, a train circling, a Jumbotron with a Christmas movie alternating with shots of kids coming down the giant slide with artificial snow, and an obstacle course bounce house.

Altogether it was a festive activity for our family which included everyone–my older son, his wife, the two boys, my younger son, my Ex, and me. As hard as the last few years have been since our divorce, I’m glad that something I realized has come true; I was losing my marriage–not my family. We were there, altogether, making family memories.

Our three-year-old Parks came to the event after a full day at Pre-K, including his classroom Christmas presentation. He didn’t want to be in the picture. He’d gotten very upset when he saw the Bull’s mascot—Wool E. Bull, frightened when we walked near him. He was also upset that he wasn’t tall enough–42 inches, to go down the slide like his brother. But finally, he found an activity he loved; the obstacle course bounce house which he quickly mastered. How we loved watching him go through, then run back to the end of the line, impatient for his turn. Later, he and his older brother played freeze tag with other kids in the area that would have been centerfield in the summer.

They were able to run around while their mom and dad waited in the train line and “Uncle” “Popi” and “Grammy” watched to be sure they stayed nearby. It was a family effort and I was grateful that it had all worked out: no one sick, clear skies, just enough chill to be almost Christmas. What a contrast to our first holiday outing two years ago when we rode a train in a cold rain and were in close quarters with the pandemic still palpable.

I wonder what my grandsons will remember. Will Parks’s remember being frightened and crying inconsolably at the sight of Wool E. Bull? Will Baker remember standing in front of the yardstick where the staff member measured his height, the pride he showed on his face when she announced he was tall enough? Will the boys remember the souvenirs their Popi bought them in the gift store or our dinner at the Mexican restaurant on our way home?

What I’ll remember is that we worked together as a family to make that event special. We managed the tense times of an inconsolable and then willful three-year-old, the frustration of navigating the admission process and lines, and the end-of-the-week tiredness followed by over-stimulation of a holiday park. We have videos the grandsons will watch repeatedly to relive that night, playing in a Winter Wonderland that in the spring will be a baseball stadium with more special memories.

My heart was full when we headed home, me squeezed in the backseat of my son’s car between the grandsons’ seats. They took turns making up the most gross things they could think of in typical boy fashion! I became like an Umpire, telling each one when it was his turn to talk, then making up my own version of out-grossing them, to the heartwarming sound of their laughter at “Gross Grammy!”

My hope for us all in this week ahead, is that we will realize all the love and support that is around us in our families and friends. And in whatever brokenness we’ve experienced in these relationships, may we find a special grace that can be the magic of this season.