Christmas Letter 2009

Last time I wrote a letter for Christmas it was 2007. The economy was jumping. I lived with the persistant assumption that each year will be better than the last. Next year, the thinking went, I’ll make more money, have a better house and drive a better car. I’ll have a superior title at work, I’ll create higher profile stuff, I’ll be more satisfied. It’s the idea of infinite growth - up without down - and for the previous 13 years of my professional career, it’s been the truth. The last two years brought with them not only widespread layoffs, and economic downturn, but the end of one man’s particularly naive worldview.

For much of 2008 and 2009 I was commuting back and forth to Las Vegas. The situation was run, run , run during the week, at the ad agency I was working for, then run to the airport on Friday and fly back to Seattle. It was vainly attempting to squeeze a week’s worth of quality time in with Elizabeth and our three boys. It was strange arguments, tears, and making up, then running to the airport Sunday evening for the return flight to that desert arm-pit only to start the mess all over again on Monday.

The upside was I really liked the agency where I was working and I got to meet some great people, but man, I hated that town with the kind of intense passion you might only hate another Hitler. Decaying old people like zombies in front of noisy, blinking machines: that’s what comes to mind when I hear Las Vegas. Not glamour. Not showgirls. Not excitement. Not fun. Just a sea of wretched, overfed creatures desperately looking for a moments diversion. Ten months there and it made me think a nuclear Armegedon might not be all bad.

Since the lay off, when I’m not freelancing or looking for full-time work, I’ve been making up for the time I lost with my family. I’ve been riding bikes with the kids to school, helping to coach wrestling, going to parent/teacher conferences and begging forgiveness from the wife. There’s been lots of that last bit as I’m not that easy to be around when I fret.

Being home has been a mixed bag. While I’m truly ecstatic to be back with my family I simultaneously hate their very existence. Not them personally so much as the pressure of being responsible for them. Their pesky need for food, shelter and clothing can be such a bother at times. I’ve thought about going out for a pack of smokes and never coming back, but they’re clever and would surely figure me out. They know I hate cigarettes.

It’s been two years of transitions for the rest of the family as well. David graduated high-school and started college. He had an epic summer trip to Europe and Africa which gave him a new perspective on the world and a dandy case of malaria. As a result he’ll never be able to donate blood. He may also better heed the explicit instructions of medical professionals in the future.

Gabriel and Jonah are maturing. Physically, anyway. Gabriel’s very proud of his new ‘man hairs’ and has a microscopic one under his arm that he loves to show off. Jonah has lost his hockey smile and now sports a varied assortment of disproportionately large grown-up teeth. He’s learned to use his new smile to his advantage which explains his meteoric rise up the 4th grade social ladder. He won the seat of class president and lords over his fellow students with an iron fist.

Elizabeth’s latest passion is going to the dog-park. She’ll easily spend an hour there watching our Staffy, Petey, tumble around the dirt with the other dogs. Her excessive fondness for dogs is new and scares me. “Oh, Steve. Look at Petey” she’ll say fawningly, “He’s licking himself.” Or “Oh, Steve. Look at Petey – he’s breathing.” She gets annoyed with me when I fail to share her enthusiasm, shaking her head at me in astonishment as if I were unable to appreciate the beauty of the Mona Lisa. I tell her that the line between ‘dog lover’ and ‘crazy-dog-lady’ is a fine one.

There’s no telling what’s around the corner for our family. We’d love to stay in Seattle, but I honestly fear we may have to leave for greener professional pastures elsewhere. It’s my hope that we would be open to whatever the good Lord has in mind for us regardless of how crappy it looks to us. The most meaningful thing I’ve heard in church in the last few years is simply that God walks us through The Valley, not around it. I somehow find great solace in this.

My hope for my family and friends is that we would all develop an optimism that goes beyond our immediate circumstances - one that doesn’t hinge on the fragile conditions of comfort and affluence. My hope is that we would all grow stronger through these trying times and develop that virtue of old we’ve had no need of for so long, namely grace under pressure.

God bless you and best wishes for the New Year.

-The Andrews Family