Christmas Reflections: Tamales, Holy Doors, and Plasma Orbs
The day started earlier than usual—4 a.m. to be exact. The alarm wasn’t as jarring as it might have been on a regular day, because today carried its own kind of magic. Anthony and I had left our tamale-making halfway done last night, and as much as we wanted to power through, sleep had called us both. Now, the morning was filled with the scent of masa, chilies, and the promise of a Christmas tradition finally coming together. There’s something almost ceremonial about making tamales—the folding of the corn husks, the careful layering of filling, and the steam that fills the house as they cook. It’s not just food; it’s a connection to roots, to memories, and to each other.
Anthony was in a fantastic mood, which always has a way of lifting my spirits even higher. The dogs, sensing the energy, were unusually playful, running around the house like they’d caught on to the festive vibe. It’s funny how animals just know. The whole house felt alive, brimming with joy and comfort. And while I don’t necessarily subscribe to the traditional notions of Christmas, there’s an undeniable magic in the air on days like this. It’s a feeling you can’t fake—a collective breath of peace and love that’s tangible even to someone like me, who questions the origins of most traditions.
The holiday itself is fascinating when you think about it. Its roots lie in ancient Pagan rituals, solstice celebrations, and festivals that were all about marking the cycle of seasons, yet here we are, associating it with Santa Claus and nativity scenes. It’s a blend of myth, history, and cultural evolution, stitched together like a patchwork quilt. But whether you celebrate it for its religious significance, its cultural aspects, or just as an excuse to eat good food and be with loved ones, there’s no denying the way it transforms the world for a day. It’s magical in a way that makes me pause and reflect.
While the tamales steamed and the dogs calmed down for their mid-morning nap, I caught something on the news that stopped me in my tracks. Pope Francis, assisted in his wheelchair, had performed the opening of five Holy Doors as part of a Christmas ritual. The visual alone was striking—doors being pushed open in grand, sacred spaces, steeped in centuries of tradition. It made me wonder: what’s the story behind these doors? Why does this act carry such weight in the Catholic Church? My curiosity was piqued, so I dug deeper.
The opening of Holy Doors is a symbolic act that marks the start of a Jubilee Year, a time in the Catholic Church dedicated to spiritual renewal and forgiveness. These doors, located in major basilicas like St. Peter’s in Rome, are usually sealed shut and only opened during Jubilees, which occur roughly every 25 years. Walking through them is meant to symbolize a passage from sin into grace, an act of faith and transformation. It’s not just an opening of physical doors; it’s a call to believers to open the doors of their hearts, to let in light and let go of the burdens they’ve been carrying.
This year, Pope Francis added a new dimension to the tradition by opening a Holy Door at a prison, sending a powerful message of hope and redemption. Watching it unfold, I couldn’t help but think about the layers of meaning embedded in such an act. Doors have always symbolized transitions in our lives—moving from one stage to another, closing off the past and stepping into the future. And maybe that’s what today feels like for me: a door opening, even if it’s just within myself, to embrace the good, let go of the heaviness, and be present in the now.
But then my thoughts took a leap—because that’s how my brain works—and landed on the strange plasma orbs people have been reporting. It’s a stretch, I know, but could there be a connection between this ancient ritual and these modern-day phenomena? The orbs, glowing and pulsating with a life of their own, have been captured on video in places like New Jersey and Minnesota, sparking debates about their origins. Are they atmospheric anomalies, secret military tech, or something even more mysterious? My rational side knows there’s no link between the Pope’s Holy Doors and the orbs, but part of me loves entertaining the "what ifs." What if these orbs are signs of something we don’t fully understand yet—something spiritual or even extraterrestrial? It’s a thought that lingers, not because I believe it, but because I enjoy the wonder of not knowing.
As I sit here writing, the tamales are almost done, their savory aroma wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Anthony is in the next room with the dogs, and I can hear him laughing at something they’ve done. It’s moments like this that remind me how lucky I am to have this life, this love, this peace. Not every day is easy—far from it—but today, everything feels right. It’s Christmas, and no matter what that means to anyone else, for me, it’s a day to pause, to breathe, and to be grateful.
This will be my only post today because I want to spend the rest of it soaking in this magic with Anthony and our little family. To anyone reading, wherever you are and however you celebrate, my heart is with you. Let’s cherish the good moments when they come, hold onto the magic, and keep asking questions about the things we don’t understand—like Holy Doors and plasma orbs. Life is better when we let ourselves wonder.
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