Someday at Christmas

As we close out the year, I wanted to share one last piece with y'all—a reflection, maybe a bit of a ritual. Around this time every year, I start heading back to Atlanta, my hometown, to spend Christmas with my family. Living on the other side of the country now, Christmas feels… different. I’m still figuring out what it means to make a place feel like home during the holidays. I don’t have a lot of Christmas decorations, no tree lit up in the corner.

For me, Christmas doesn’t really begin until I’m on the way to the airport to fly home.

Every year, without fail, I listen to The Temptations' Christmas Card on my way to the airport, specifically the song Someday at Christmas. It’s a tradition I carry with me. I know the song was originally recorded by Stevie Wonder—a masterpiece in its own right—but I’m biased. I grew up on Eddie Kendricks’ version, and for me, his deep, rich voice is what makes it feel like home.

Someday at Christmas is special. I remember hearing it as a kid, sitting in the backseat on the drive home from my grandmother’s house in Roanoke, Virginia after Thanksgiving. The Temptations’ voices filled the car—those harmonies, that melody—it was like they were painting the world I wanted to live in. Even then, I didn’t fully understand the lyrics, but I felt them. Felt the hope, the yearning for something better, something brighter.

Now, I’ll admit, Someday at Christmas isn’t one of those big, party Christmas songs. It’s not what you put on while passing the eggnog or opening gifts. It’s quieter, more reflective. But for me, that’s exactly why it matters. There’s a part of the song that’s stayed with me over the years, one I think about often, especially now:

“One warm December our hearts will see

A world where men are free

Someday at Christmas there'll be no wars

When we have learned what Christmas is for

When we have found what life's really worth

There'll be peace on earth

Someday all our dreams will come to be

Someday in a world where men are free

Maybe not in time for you and me

But someday at Christmastime”

Every time I hear that verse, I get chills. Eddie Kendricks’ voice, the way he delivers it—it’s not just beautiful, it’s grounding. It’s a reminder of what we’re all working toward. And it’s not just about Christmas; it’s about the world we want to build, the future we’re trying to create.

The thing is, that future feels far away sometimes, doesn’t it? When you look around and see the fear, the division, the uncertainty—new leadership, new policies, new challenges—it’s easy to feel like time is slipping through your fingers like sand. And when change doesn’t come quickly enough, it’s so easy to lose sight of why we even started. Burnout sets in. Frustration turns to hopelessness. Hopelessness turns to apathy. And suddenly, it feels like nothing we do matters.

But it does. It always has.

That’s what Someday at Christmas reminds me of. It’s not about immediate wins or quick fixes—it’s about holding onto hope even when the work feels endless. Maybe that better world won’t come in time for us, but that doesn’t mean it won’t come. How do I know? Because we’ve seen it. We’ve made progress. We’re standing on the shoulders of those who came before us, who fought for the freedoms we have now. And while the water is still over our heads, it’s not nearly as deep as it once was. Progress isn’t a myth; it’s a fact. We’re proof of it.

So as we move into 2025, I want to leave you with this: Keep fighting. Keep pushing forward. Eddie Kendricks sang something in Someday at Christmas that feels like the heart of it all—“Maybe not in time for you and me, but someday at Christmastime.” It may not happen next year, or the year after that. It may not happen in this term, or the term after, or even in our lifetimes. But it will happen.

And that’s what inspired us from the beginning—that collective hope, that vision for something better, even if we don’t live to see it. That belief has carried movements, revolutions, and generations of people who stood where we’re standing now, looking ahead at a future they could only dream of. It has to inspire us now, too. Because someday isn’t just an idea—it’s a promise. And that’s why the fight is worth it.

And that’s my gift to you this holiday season. A reminder that the work you’re doing matters. A reminder that someday isn’t just a dream; it’s a promise. We win the war, even if the battles feel endless.

Much love to you all. Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. And here’s to a hopeful new year.

E