My Christmas Story
My son often talks about the second to last year it snowed here in San Antonio as his favorite memory. It’s not the snow itself that made it magical, but what it represented. That was the last Christmas our entire family was still together.
I filed for divorce in November 2020. To my children, it came as a complete shock. I had suffered in silence for so long that even they, as close to me as they were, didn’t see it coming. Like many who stay too long hoping things might change, I clung to a quiet hope that maybe, somehow, it would all work out. So when the snow came that following February, despite the fractures beneath the surface, our family of seven was still living under the same roof. Maybe foolishly, maybe tenderly, we bundled up and went out to the acres where we kept the horses. We made snow angels, had snowball fights, and let the country snow stir up every kind of joy we could muster. For one fleeting day, it felt like a pause in the unraveling.
Not long after, the violence that had long simmered behind closed doors came to the surface. My spouse gave me a head injury so painful and forceful my jaw was knocked out of place. I gathered my children and fled to safety, finding refuge with my best friend and my parents.
Eventually, a judge ordered my ex to leave, and my children and I returned to the house we once fled. It was in that hollow, healing space that my love for tea quietly began. At first, it was simple: I found myself drawn to the warmth of the cup between my hands, the calming scent rising with the steam. It became a ritual, a moment of peace amid the rubble. But then something deeper happened. My children began to gather around the table with me. We talked. We cried. We listened to one another. Somehow, tea had created a safe space.
To this day, Christmas has not yet returned to what it once was. There’s still rebuilding, still grief tucked into the corners of celebration. But in that pain, a seed of purpose was planted. Without those moments of loss and quiet reflection, I would not have been moved to build the tea brand I now pour my heart into. Every blend carries a piece of that journey.
When people share their reflections with me, when they say my tea is an experience, it means more than they know. It’s the quiet strength of survival, the healing that begins at the kitchen table.
Thank you for sharing this experience with me.
If you are reading this in the middle of your own hard season, the table is still worth setting. It does not have to be a beautiful one. A pot, two cups, and one person you love is enough to start.
I write about all of it in The Steeping Chronicles, my newsletter with a sweet side and a real side. Join me here. If you would rather start with something in your hands, my Simple Pleasures box holds three teas, twelve sachets, and the games and activities that get a quiet table talking. Just add hot water. If Thanksgiving is the holiday that gets you, I wrote about that one too in Thanksgiving Reflections.
If any part of this sounds like your house right now, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is free, confidential, and open 24 hours a day at 1-800-799-7233, or text START to 88788. You are not making too much of it.
Questions People Ask About Healing After a Hard Christmas
Why did Erica Powers start A Tea Party In A Box?
I started it at my own kitchen table. After my divorce and the violence that ended my marriage, tea became the thing I reached for, and then my children started sitting down with me. That table is where the business came from. I began with live tea parties around San Antonio, and when guests kept asking where to buy the tea, the boxes followed.
How do you get through the first Christmas after a divorce?
You get through it by letting it be smaller and honest instead of pretending it is the same. Mine did not look like the ones before it, and I stopped trying to make it. What helped was a smaller table, fewer expectations, and something warm to hold while we talked. Grief still tucks itself into the corners of the celebration, and that is allowed.
Can tea really help with healing?
Tea is not medicine and I will never sell it as one. What it does is buy you time. It is poured hot, so you have to wait for it to cool, and that wait is long enough for somebody to start talking. In my house the cup was the reason we sat down, and sitting down is where the healing started.
How do I start a tea ritual at home?
Start with one cup at the same time each day and keep it that simple. Pick a tea you actually like, because nobody repeats a habit that tastes like regret. Put your phone face down while it steeps. If you want company, say the time out loud so the people in your house know the pot is on.
What do you send someone whose holidays look different this year?
Send something that gives them a reason to sit down, not something that asks them to perform. A box with tea, a cup, and something to do together holds up longer than a card. My Simple Pleasures box was built for that, with three teas, twelve sachets, and games that get a quiet table talking. There is rarely a right thing to say, so send the pause instead.
Where is A Tea Party In A Box based?
We are in the San Antonio, Texas area. I host live tea parties around San Antonio and rent out the china for local gatherings, and we wash the dishes. If you are not nearby, the box is how the tea party comes to you. Just add hot water.