Merry Christmas from New Zealand. It feels both familiar and completely different to be writing those words from this side of the world, where Christmas has already arrived, while so many of the people we love are still moving through Christmas Eve. Over the past day or so, we’ve already had a chance to chat with family members and friends scattered across time zones, some in the US, where Christmas Day will dawn tomorrow, and others who, like us, are celebrating today. The conversations overlapped in a gentle blur of “Merry Christmas,” “It’s almost here,” and “Can you believe it already passed for you?” Time feels elastic when you live this way, stretching and compressing depending on who you’re talking to and where they happen to be in the world.
This morning, Dave stopped by, as he often does, with that easygoing Kiwi warmth that makes you feel instantly at home. He and his dear wife, Eing, invited us to dinner tonight, and we delightfully accepted without hesitation. There’s something especially touching about being welcomed into someone’s home on a holiday when you’re far from your own traditions, your own kitchen, and your own familiar table. Over the years, travel has gifted us many things, but the opportunity to connect with locals, really connect, beyond small talk, has been one of the greatest blessings. And here we are again, another Christmas spent not in a place we once called home, but in a place that feels welcoming in its own quiet, unassuming way.
As we’ve continued this lifestyle year after year, we’ve found ourselves celebrating holidays alongside people from all over the world. Each experience adds another layer to our understanding of how others live, gather, and mark special days. In New Zealand, Christmas falls in summer, and even that slight shift changes everything. The light lingers longer, the air feels different, and the pace of the day doesn’t quite match the snowy scenes so deeply ingrained in our memories. Yet the heart of it, the kindness, the togetherness, the sense of pausing, remains.
Tom’s birthday, which sits right next to Christmas, was a gentle reminder of how adaptable life has become. He had a lovely birthday, filled with messages that arrived throughout the day and night via WhatsApp, Facebook, texts, emails, and phone calls. Each message carried a small reminder of our old lives, a reminder that distance doesn’t erase connection. It’s always been an odd time of year to have a birthday, but Tom has long made the best of it, and this year was no different.
In our old lives, I made a point of keeping his birthday separate from Christmas. No presents wrapped in Christmas paper. No holiday-themed cakes or desserts sneaking their way into his celebration. It was important to me that the day belonged solely to him, uninterrupted by ornaments or carols. It was a tradition rooted in care, in making sure he felt celebrated for who he is, not as an add-on to a holiday.
Now, living this unique, nomadic life, things look different. We don’t make a fuss about Christmas in the traditional sense. There are no trees to decorate, no boxes of ornaments pulled from storage, no shopping lists filled with gifts. What remains is the spiritual meaning we carry quietly in our hearts. The commercialism has fallen away, no longer shaping how we experience the season. And honestly, I can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.
This simpler version of Christmas feels truer somehow, less about what we do and more about how we feel. Gratitude, connection, reflection, and an openness to wherever we happen to be. This year, that place is New Zealand, and we are thankful for the people we’ve met, the kindness they’ve shown us, and the gentle reminder that home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s simply the moment you’re in, shared with others, wherever in the world you may be.
Merry Christmas and be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, December 25, 2015:
