Remembering a Smorgasbord

My Eaters!
What is going on? I hope you are all well. I missed you last week. Unfortunately, life took over. If I’m honest, I’m still kind of on the rollercoaster—but I couldn’t let another week go by without spending this time with you.

Ironically, even though life is tugging on us pretty good right now, we’re entering my favorite time of the year. It’s the holiday season! Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas, and then finally, New Year’s. In my opinion, the next two months are what we wait all year for. With few exceptions, there’s no time more worth celebrating than the holidays.

As I was thinking about this week’s article, I wanted to honor this special time of year. However, I also recognize that for many people, this season can be triggering or emotional because of the loss of loved ones and the grief that follows. I can relate, and this week I want to honor all of you too. If you’re carrying the weight of loss and grief this holiday season, this one’s for you.

Growing up, I was the youngest of six children. My house was Grandma’s and Grandad’s house. Every year from November through New Year’s, that house came alive. It felt like a constant parade of siblings and nephews for two months straight—and with that came an abundance of incredible food.

Thanksgiving was always my favorite. The spread seemed endless: all the traditional Thanksgiving fare sitting side by side with every classic Jamaican dish you could imagine. The table was always full of stories and laughter. My mom and dad flawlessly executed each meal and every holiday while simultaneously being Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandad. It was magical. I didn’t realize then how special those holidays were—but I sure do now.

Looking back, I realize that food was never just food—it was love, connection, and celebration.

Fast forward to 2008, when Gwen and I got married. By then, the holidays in my family had long since become distant memories. Fortunately, I married a woman who came from a family with strong holiday traditions of their own. Her family wasn’t as big as mine, but their Christmas traditions were just as special.

Unlike me, Gwen doesn’t come from a family of cooks—she comes from a family of bakers. Every year, I’d watch Gwen, her mom, her sisters, and sometimes their grandma descend upon the kitchen just before Christmas for a tradition they called Smorgasbord. It was a two- to three-day extravaganza where they filled the table with all the family’s favorite treats.

There were homemade cookies, brownies, a cinnamon-and-nutty treat they called Vita Bread (I loved it so much my mother-in-law would make me my own loaf), and Grandma’s famous green Jell-O—yes, Jell-O salads are still alive and delicious! It was absolute bakery bliss.

Recognizing the need for something savory, there were always cold cuts and Grandma’s Swedish meatballs. Eaters, it was always so good. Their Smorgasbord tradition ran so deep that, on the years we couldn’t make it home, they would bring it—or send it—to us in Georgia. Those were always the best care packages.

Time has a way of changing even the sweetest traditions.

Tears fill my eyes as I write this article. As wonderful as these stories sound, things have changed. This time of year—the one I used to anticipate and look forward to—now comes with a lot of grief and sorrow. Family drama and loss have dissolved the traditions on my side of the family.

Smorgasbord, too, has lost some of its luster since my mother-in-law’s passing at Christmas three years ago. Gwen’s dad and sisters have done their best to keep it alive, and Gwen and I have created our own Smorgasbord tradition that we’ve agreed to host every other year (and this year is our year). But the truth is—it’s not the same.

Gwen’s mom was the life force behind Smorgasbord. We didn’t realize it then, but we feel it now. The holidays just haven’t been the same without her.

But grief, as I’ve learned, is the shadow side of love—it reminds us how deeply something mattered.

In closing, Eaters, I’m reminding myself—and maybe you too—not to focus on what’s been lost, no matter how dark or impossible it feels. Posture your hearts to focus on what still lives inside of us. The laughter, the smells, the recipes, the people who shaped us—they don’t disappear. They live on in our kitchens, in our stories, and in the love we share with others.

I can still hear my dad shouting for someone to check the pot. The first Christmas after my mother-in-law passed, Gwen’s older sister made me my own Vita Bread. That simple gesture is something I’ll never forget—and she’s made me one every year since.

Moments like that remind me that even when traditions change, love finds a way to keep showing up.

So be encouraged as we step into this holiday season. Focus on the living. Continue to talk about and teach the traditions as they were taught to you. The best way to honor those we’ve lost is to keep the good times alive—to cook the meals, tell the stories, play the music, and fill our homes with the same warmth they once gave us. That’s how we keep the spirit of the holidays alive. That’s how we keep them alive.

As always, be sure to comment and let me know what you think. I’ll be praying for each of you and look forward to seeing you at the Peachtree City Farmers Market this—and every—Saturday.