It was three Saturdays before Christmas, which also meant the last week of finals. I was looking forward to going home, putting my ornaments on the tree, and hanging out with my family. However, I was not looking forward to the late nights of studying, stressful exams and loads of caffeine I would consume before home became reality.

To relieve tension, I peeled my gaze from the computer screen, and stared longingly out the window. I knew my family was doing what they had always done that day—baking tons of Christmas cookies, and by tons I mean 15 different kinds.

Even though I wasn't there, it was a comfort to know my family carried on the precious tradition of cookie baking weekend. As I sat at my desk, I could almost smell the sweet buttery scent of sugar cookies ready for green and red icing. I could just about taste the rich chocolaty fudge fresh off the stove. I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to call home.

Dad hardly had time to say hello before I shouted, "How are the Chinese noodle cookies this year?"

Silence.

"Is the peanut brittle too thin again?"

"Are you OK, honey? I think you need to lay off the coffee for a while."

"Seriously, can you grab Mom from the kitchen so I can check up on how the shortbread's doing?"

"Your mom took your sister to choir practice, then went shopping. … "

"You mean, you're not baking cookies? What happened to cookie weekend? The great Scheiwe bake-a-thon?" I gushed, not pausing for an answer. "You know, wake up early, get grubby with flour and butter, listen to Bing Crosby, eat too much sugar? It's what we always do!"

"Not this year. Too much work. We'll bake a batch or two when you get home, but it's just not that important."

"What?!" I practically dropped the phone. "You have to have baking weekend! It's the kick-off to Christmas! The neighbors are counting on our cookie trays this week. I'm counting on the thought of you doing it just to get me through finals week. Come on, Dad, it's tradition!"

"Really? It's that important to you?" Dad said, genuine surprise in his voice. "I always thought we dragged you kids out of bed to do it. You complained about how hot the oven made the kitchen, how your sisters always licked more spoons than you did, and how you never got to eat as many cookies as you wanted. Your mom and I decided it wasn't worth the fuss anymore."

I couldn't believe Dad had taken my complaining so seriously. Sure I had complained. What kid doesn't? But to kill an important family tradition because of it?

"Dad, it really is important to me," I admitted. "It reminds me of home … and of the love I have there."

By the end of our conversation, Dad conceded that he, too, missed the fun of cookie baking weekend. He told me he'd even gotten up early that day and turned on good ol' Bing—a piece of the tradition he couldn't give up.

When I finally hung up the phone, I leaned back in my chair and smiled broadly. My earlier tensions melted away as those sweet smells from Mom's kitchen seemed to fill the room once again.

In the midst of the uncertainty of finals week, I was grateful that some things are dependable, like Christmas cookies, family traditions, and my parents' love.

Heather Scheiwe is a senior at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota.

Copyright © 2003 by the author or Christianity Today International/Campus Life magazine.
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