Merry Christmas — Military Style
A Holiday Celebration Held Together With Duct Tape, Humor, and Sheer Willpower
Most people celebrate Christmas with cozy traditions, carefully planned dinners, and predictable family chaos.
Military families, on the other hand?
We celebrate Christmas like a slightly unhinged improv troupe performing in a snow globe someone keeps shaking.
Because nothing — absolutely nothing — in military life lines up with the calendar.
And if you’re a surviving family?
You’ve mastered the art of honoring someone who should still be here — while also trying to keep the tree from collapsing and the kids from using the stockings as weapons.
So grab your cocoa, your emotional support candy cane, and your best forced cheer.
Here’s the real Christmas truth:
Military Christmas is weird, messy, heartfelt chaos — and somehow still beautiful.
Holiday Plans? Bold of You to Assume We Have Those
Civilians:
“We’ll meet at noon. Everyone bring a side dish!”
Military Families:
“Christmas is either on the 23rd, the 27th, or sometime in February depending on the new training schedule, the gate hours, and whether or not someone finally fixed the smoke alarm.”
Our plans aren’t just fluid.
They’re fully aquatic.
The Army Doesn’t Believe in Holiday Spirit — It Believes in Surprise Trainings
Nothing says Christmas like:
“Hey, babe, the unit just got called in.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Classified.”
“Will you be back?”
“Also classified.”
Sure.
That tracks.
Military Christmas Trees Have Seen Some Things
Let’s talk about that tree.
Half the ornaments are from “Home of Record”.
Two are from a PCS you swore you’d never speak of again.
One is broken from the movers.
The lights flicker in Morse code.
And somehow — somehow — it leans 45 degrees no matter what you do.
It is the perfect metaphor for military life:
chaotically decorated, structurally questionable, but standing anyway.
Base Housing Provides a Special Kind of Holiday Drama
No snow? No problem.
The base housing maintenance backlog will provide plenty of seasonal excitement:
The heater breaks on the coldest night of the year.
The smoke alarm beeps every 45 seconds for no reason.
The neighbor’s dog steals your inflatable Santa.
Housing says they’ll fix it “after the holiday,” which is code for “March.”
Festive!
Military Kids Make the Best and Saddest Christmas Lists
Civilian kids:
“I want a bike!”
Military kids:
“I want Daddy/Mommy to stay home.”
“I want the Army to stop taking our parents.”
“I want the Army to stop making us move every few years.”
We give them toys.
We give them love.
We give them stability where we can.
And somehow these kids grow into the strongest humans you’ll ever meet.
The Empty Chair Hits Hard — Every Single Time
Here’s the part we don’t joke about.
For surviving families, that empty chair isn’t symbolic.
It’s real.
It’s heavy.
It’s the thing you feel in your throat when the room gets quiet.
But here’s the other truth:
That empty chair is also a reminder of love so deep and enduring that it still fills the room, even when the person is gone.
And that?
That’s the part of Christmas worth holding onto.
Amazon Is Our Love Language (Because the PX Failed Us Again)
Nothing humbles a person like Christmas shopping on base.
You walk in hoping for variety.
You leave with:
1 scented candle
3 bags of beef jerky
Socks
Something that might be a toy
A mild existential crisis
Amazon Prime, ho ho ho.
Our Christmas Photos Are… Ambitious
Some families have matching pajamas and golden retrievers smiling at the camera.
Military families have:
One parent missing
A kid mid-scream
A toddler covered in glitter
A dog wearing camo
A tree that looks like it’s rethinking its life choices
A photographer who gave up halfway through
But you know what?
It’s perfect.
Because it’s real.
We Laugh So We Don’t Cry (And Sometimes We Do Both)
We joke about the chaos — but that humor doesn’t come from nowhere.
It comes from strength.
From love.
From holding it together through things most people can’t imagine.
From surviving grief that slices through December like cold air.
From showing up for kids, for each other, for ourselves — even when it’s hard.
Our humor isn’t avoidance.
It’s survival.
It’s the light we hang on the parts of life that feel dark.
Merry Christmas, You Incredible Disaster-Management Champions
Whether you're:
a military spouse
a surviving spouse
a caregiver
a service member
a veteran
or someone who found this blog while hiding from your relatives
You deserve a Christmas that reflects the truth:
You are resilient.
You are exhausted.
You are hilarious.
You are strong.
You are grieving and growing.
You are doing your best.
And your best is more than enough.
So here’s my Christmas message:
May your orders be stable.
May your housing not flood.
May your mail arrive on time.
May your heart feel lighter than it did last year.
May your memories warm you.
May your humor save you.
And may your Christmas — however messy, loud, or off-schedule — be filled with love.
Merry Christmas, military family.
We make magic out of chaos every year.
And we’ll do it again.
