As the holiday season approaches, I find myself reflecting on the many “invitations” woven through this time of year — requests to gather, to partake in traditions, to be fed, to receive, and to give. Whether we find ourselves as the inviter or the invitee, the season is rich with opportunities for connection. In my 40 years of counselling youth and families, I’ve witnessed the wounding that occurs when invitations are scarce or offered out of obligation. I’ve also seen the warmth, joy, and sense of belonging that arise when they are extended generously and sincerely. The best offers include both an invitation to exist in someone’s presence, and an openness to a person’s authentic self. During the winter months — when many celebrations cluster together — this theme seems especially worthy of our attention and intention.
An invitation to exist in another’s presence is fundamental to relationship. Whether between parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren, teachers and students, siblings, partners, friends, or neighbours, the warmth in our eyes, arms, and hearts is part of the glue that holds us together. When conditions are conducive in families and communities, there is a natural order to invitation: the elder generation takes the lead in extending care and welcome, creating a cascading of care that nurtures the generations who come after. During festivities, this often includes inviting loved ones into our homes, sharing traditions, and offering a place at the table. Ideally, we embrace people to “come as you are.”
Of course, there are many exceptions. Distance, loss, conflict, and busyness can interrupt the rituals that once helped families and communities stay close. Many people have watched holiday movies portraying love and connection while rarely, if ever, experiencing them in real life. The disparity between those who feel invited and those who do not can feel especially sharp at this time of year.
I grew up in a home with my grandparents, mother, and brother, where holidays were centred around food and large family gatherings. One tradition passed down through generations was that anyone — friend, neighbour, or relative — who might be alone could join us. I looked forward to these celebrations. When I was in university and a snowstorm prevented many classmates from travelling home, I hosted a holiday meal. We cooked, laughed, blended our traditions, and created a temporary “family” that brought us closer well after the gathering. Years later, when work kept me from travelling home, a friend’s family invited my roommate and me to join their holiday gathering. My friend’s parents, first-generation immigrants, provided a feast of dishes entirely new to me. Yet the warmth, gathering of extended family, and sense of belonging felt so close to home that I found myself teary. We were not related by blood, yet we were welcomed as if we were. What a gift.
These gatherings shared a common thread: generous invitations to be part of the festivities and to partake with no strings attached. One experience from early adulthood stands in stark contrast. My younger brother and I spent a holiday weekend with our father and new stepmother’s family. We were staying at a hotel for another family celebration and assumed we would be included in the holiday family meal. The invitation never came. Confused and hurt, we tried to reconcile the warmth we had felt meeting our stepfamily with the hurt of being excluded. Many of us have endured moments like this — the unmistakable sting of not being invited by those we hoped would include us.
Families formed through fostering or adoption, divorce and remarriage, often require extra care, understanding, and intentionality. Children raised in multiple homes or with multiple caregivers may be cautious or appear indifferent about holidays and connection, yet I’ve seen how even the most guarded hearts can soften. One Christmas, while working in a youth correctional facility, my barbershop quartet sang carols at the jail. Some youth, who usually appeared tough and closed off, stood on tiptoe to see us singing, their expressions softening, if only for a moment. Even small invitations can reach places words may not.
Whether the people we want to draw closer are children born to us, those who have come into our lives in other ways, or adults entering the family through marriage or partnership, the coming months offer valuable opportunities to deepen relationship. We can invite others to be with us, to share what we have in common, to feel part of something, to belong, to feel seen and treasured, to be known. The possibilities are abundant. And invitations need not be grand. Sometimes they look like simple gestures — a cup of hot chocolate, a favourite food added to the menu, a small bag of baking left at someone’s door, or a short message expressing care. A warm invitation can be as modest as a smile, a greeting in a hallway, or a conversation while waiting in line. Money may be tight at this time of year, and yet words — spoken or written — often mean more than anything we could buy.
This season may be filled with social events or with too many moments when the lack of invitation is deeply felt. As I look ahead to the coming month, I think about the many people who may gather — those who have always been with us, those who are new, and those far from their own families and traditions.
Connection is our deepest human need — vital to our wellbeing. We cannot invite ourselves, yet many of us long for relationship. It was a beautiful realization when I discovered that being either “invitee” or “inviter,” recipient or provider, can be equally satisfying. Having lost some elders in our family, a provider void opened. For years now, my husband and I have stepped into the inviter and provider roles. We enjoy the dance, even as it evolves with adult children and new guests at the table. I believe this is the nature and beauty of cascading care.
Any time is a good time for bringing those we care about close to repair, deepen, or rekindle relationships. A genuine invitation, even to a stranger, however big or small, can transform the season into something memorable and meaningful. My sincere hope for you is this: take a moment to reflect on what invitation means to you and your family this year. What inspirations or intentions would you enjoy bringing to life? How might you imagine extending an invitation this season to draw people closer and create moments worth remembering?
For those wishing to delve further into these themes, offerings such as The Vital Connection and The Art and Science of Transplanting Children provide a natural next step.
