I'm an Advent girl ...

Which means you get rum cake!

Every December, I fret that my neighbors view me as a cranky holiday Scrooge because, while most of their houses are decorated before, on, or the day after Thanksgiving, mine remains winter-dark until about a week before Christmas.

It’s not that I’m bah-humbugging my way through the increasingly commercialized, once-holy, holiday season – although if you’re one of those folks who think it’s perfectly fine to have Christmas music in October, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.

No, I drag out Christmas decorating because I’m desperate for rites of passage that decelerate my hamster-wheel-self once a year, and the liturgical season of Advent provides those rites.

While most of the world sees the Christmas season as Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, for Catholics and mainstream Protestants, the four weeks leading up to Dec. 24 are Advent – from the Latin adventus, meaning “arrival” – and the Christmas season is Dec. 24 to the Feast of Epiphany on Jan. 6. (Yep, the 12 Days of Christmas.)

Advent offers tiny markers that can help people like me slow down. Similar to every other human in the advanced world, I’m consumed by a system of doing and having and producing and acquiring most every hour of every day of the year. The world hurtles forth at the speed of sound; much noise and information and addictive “entertainment” coming at us nonstop to the point where it’s not unusual to forget what day or month it is. Long gone is the concept of a weekly Day of Rest, much less the actual practice of one.

I started with Advent rites-of-passage when my children were small, wanting them to see December as more than a month of unabashed “I want”-sies. We needed to be wrapped in tiny prayers, holy parables, and kindness practices as much as twinkling lights. I’ve kept up with this slow-mo holiday season ever since, even though our children are long grown, and it starts with putting up our Advent wreath the weekend after Thanksgiving, which is the first Sunday of Advent.

We usually just light it at meals, but I happily indulge my grandsons’ pyromaniac urges when they visit outside of mealtime because it gives me yet another Advent opportunity to slow down — watching their fascination with matches and flame while explaining why we have a wreath.

I also read haphazardly from the Liturgy of the Hours during these first days of not-decorating. I’m reminded through David’s psalms, Isaiah’s prophecies and the simple details of a young girl traveling miles on a donkey to give birth in a stable, that life has always been challenging, yet, if we pay attention, we’ll realize we’re not alone.

A few days after the wreath is christened, our nativity set comes out, resting on a table near the front door, where the tiny starfish-hands of grandchildren pick up the miniature baby Jesus or a shepherd and wander around the living room clutching them like prizes until said figurines are traded for another toy.

Then, on the Feast of Saint Nicholas, Dec. 6, we put up the stockings and a few inside lights …

… and finally, during the weekend of the third Sunday of Advent - Gaudete Sunday - we find a tree, turn on carols and put up outside lights, because Gaudete means rejoicing in Latin, and so we do. Because my husband can’t spend an eternity stringing lights amidst our spiky landscape, and I wouldn’t know how to hook up outside lights with a gun to my head, we’re less this:

And more this:

Our house glows until at least Jan. 6, where tradition holds that three kings following a bright star finally arrived to see the newborn Christ.

Then, when we’re taking them down, I promise myself I’ll keep the Advent spirit of s-l-o-w-i-n-g-d-o-w-n throughout the year. Naturally, I usually fail by February, because I’m the antithesis of slow living.

I’ve always been this way, greedy for life, obsessed with learning, meeting new people, experiencing new things. I want to hike tall mountains, learn to quilt, be a CASA, bake good cakes, finish my second novel and sell my first, spend a weekend annually with my best friend and another with my sister, teach religious education, have that conversation over there, meet that person for coffee, and spend time with each of our five grandchildren twice a month. I cram, cram, cram and my TBD list grows.

I have more hope this year that I’ll be able to carry Advent into 2025 because I’ve already taken one step to get more time to just be: I got off social media a month ago, gaining an average of 90 extra minutes in my days and a ridiculous amount of peace. It was the best decision I’ve made in a long while. (Do you, too, want to stop giving strangers 30, 60, 90 minutes of your one precious life while making the Silicon Valley boys richer through all your scrolling? You can try this, this, or this to break up with your phone - because it isn’t just social media that’s causing the issue.)

Most of the extra-life time I’ve clawed back from tech this month has been spent praying for the world, making Christmas stockings for the two new babies in the family, and finding joy in Christmas recipes like the below. I hope you find joy in it, too, and feel free to share your slow-down methods or holiday recipes in the comments. Happy Advent and Merry Christmas!

Mini Rum Christmas Cakes

This gem is a popular Christmas treat among a large group of my friends in Denton, Texas. The friend who adapted it from a Bundt cake recipe in the 1980s started by baking a batch of 28 mini loaves. She now makes more than 300 (!!) each December, due to popular demand. It’s been referred to as the crack-cocaine of tiny cakes, so fair warning to you.

For planning purposes, these are best if served after being baked, glazed and then frozen for a couple days. I think it has to do with the glaze being absorbed by the cake in super-cold temps? Who can explain the magic of baking chemistry? (Except, of course, bakers and chemists, but let’s not get persnickety.) Enjoy!

INSTRUCTIONS:

Preheat oven to 325⁰. Grease and flour 10 small foil loaf pans

Chop 1 & ¼ cups of pecans and sprinkle them evenly into all the loaf pans

In a large bowl, blend together the following:

· 8 medium size eggs

· 1 cup rum (light, not dark)

· 1 cup vegetable oil

· 1 cup water

Once blended, add:

· 2 boxes of plain yellow cake mix

· 2 boxes of vanilla instant pudding

Mix together for two-three minutes, scraping down edges as needed.

Divide batter evenly over the pecans in the 10 pans. Set the pans on the middle rack in oven, 5 in front and 5 in back. (I find it helpful to use a cookie sheet.)

Bake at 325⁰ for 23 minutes, then rotate the positions of the pans (front to back, back to front) & bake 23 more minutes. If you’re a lazy baker like me, just leave them all in the same position and bake for 46 minutes, but the ones in the back will be slightly darker than those in the front. It doesn’t change the taste.

Remove cakes from oven and let cool for 15 minutes.

While the cakes are baking, make the glaze by bringing the following to a boil in a saucepan:

· 2 sticks butter

· 2 cups sugar

· ½ cup rum

· ½ cup water

Once boiling, lower temperature and cook for 3 minutes, stirring frequently. Take off heat and let cool until cakes are completely baked and cooled, stirring every so often.

Spoon glaze evenly over all the cooled mini cakes – it is about 5 tablespoons per cake. They basically want to be soaked in the rum glaze.

Let sit for at least 3 hours, then remove from baking pans (wash and reuse these). Wrap individual loaves tightly in cling wrap or foil and place in a gallon freezer bag, four to a bag. Freeze for 48 hours or up to 6 months. Take them out of the freezer 30 minutes before you want to serve them or give as gifts. They stay tasty and fresh in the refrigerator for up to a week once thawed. The alcohol in the rum cooks off in this recipe, so they’re suitable for all ages.