When Mary Jane Turrubiartes' youngest child dragged her to the gym near the end of 2012, it was the last place she wanted to be.

Her daughter Elida, now 21, knew her mom was unhappy. Turrubiartes was nearing 200 pounds, pushing a size 18 and taking four medications for high blood pressure, along with steroid medicine for asthma. She was prediabetic and her cholesterol was high.

Her self-esteem was even worse than her health.

"She was always so negative about herself," Elida said. She said she didn't want her mother to die because of health problems related to her weight.

Turrubiartes, now 48, knew her marriage of 20 years had been bad for a long time. She struggled with emotional demons she wasn't ready to confront.

But she listened to her daughter and went with her to the gym in the suburbs of Houston where she met a personal trainer -- my brother.

She sat in his office with her daughter and listened to him say she could change her life.

"I'm too old," she said. "I'm too fat." Her daughter and her new trainer refused to accept that.

So, like so many others with the same intention near the start of a new year, Turrubiartes signed up to begin training. It was pretty miserable at first. And it didn't get much better for a while. After a particularly difficult workout, when she felt discouraged and wondered whether she should continue training, her trainer said to her: You need to look in a mirror and figure out what is going on with you.

"Who does he think he is?" she thought to herself. She wanted to quit.

She talked to her mom, who encouraged her to stick with it. Elida told her to keep going, too. They were proud of her effort.

She had been through a lot of hardship, even before this particular journey began.

Back in 2000, Turrubiartes had nearly lost her own life when she was 36 weeks pregnant. Doctors induced her to give birth because of preeclampsia, a condition in pregnancy when women develop high blood pressure. Her baby was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.

He died in the hospital two weeks after he was born.

"I just got numb after that," she said. "I went into this place in my head where I was on autopilot. I didn't grieve. I went back to work right away."

Years later, the weight started really adding up. She was the one who cooked for her entire family. She loved to bake for them, too.

"I was eating everything I was cooking and baking," she said. "I was so unhappy, I don't think I even knew it."

At the gym, 13 years later, she was dealing with those emotions while transforming her body.

After changing her diet and about six months of training three days a week, the pounds started falling off pretty quickly.

Her doctors were amazed at her progress, and she slowly got off nearly all her medication. The hardest decision she made was realizing she had to move on from a marriage that had only been getting worse.

"I gave everything to my husband and kids. I thought we were going to grow old together. I'm not 30. It's kind of scary being alone," she said.

She filed for a divorce that should be finalized in a few months.

"There were days when I was so down in the dumps, I didn't want to go anywhere," Turrubiartes said, let alone a gym. But she forced herself. The things she was able to do while training gave her courage. It made her stronger physically and mentally.

She lost more than 50 pounds over the course of that year. She's now down to a size 8. She decided to study for her certification to become a trainer while she continued to work. She passed the test in October, and wants to train other women and help them regain their confidence.

Her daughter had seen how unhappy she was with herself, even when she couldn't face it.

"If it wasn't for her, I probably would never have done it," said Turrubiartes.

Elida said her mom may not realize it, but her dedication to making her life better has encouraged her just as much.

The transformation in her life has been bittersweet.

"It's sad because the family is broken up," she said, crying. "But I'm at a better place physically, mentally and emotionally."

Her daughter had helped her realize: I can't be unhappy like this anymore. And she's starting to see herself differently.

"If someone tells me I'm pretty, I'll say, 'No, I'm not,' she said. "My girls will say, 'Mom, learn to take a compliment.'"

Sometimes when she gets dressed and passes by a mirror, she does a double-take and backs up to take another look.

"Oh, OK," she'll think to herself.

"I'm learning how to take a compliment."

Araceli Robles, 43, recalls a life-changing pact she made with her six brothers and sisters as a young child. They swore to always be best friends and live in the same city.

Not every child in her family remembers that specific deal. But Robles is the eldest of the seven, and as the eldest of six, I tend to trust first-born accounts.

Regardless of whether the pact was formal or just an understood consensus, the bonds they formed as children did end up changing the direction of several lives.

The Garcia children grew up in DeKalb, Illinois, a rural town in the northern part of the state. Their parents had emigrated from Mexico and left their own families behind.

"We grew up very broke," said Ivan Garcia, 41. "My mom and dad were incredibly hard workers. We were each others' best friends growing up because we didn't have a lot of activities outside the home."

For a while, three of the four brothers shared a single bed together, as did two of the sisters.

Their tight family bond was a product of choice and of circumstance, he explained. When you don't have much money or extended family nearby, and when you're one of only two Mexican families in town, your brothers and sisters are your constant playmates. Ivan was ready to leave it all behind when he attended Southern Illinois University Carbondale for graduate school. He and his fiancee headed to St. Louis in 1998 to attend chiropractic school. They changed their minds at the last minute, got jobs and started investing in real estate.

And that's when the great migration began. Ivan invited his brother Berto, who had been traveling while working for General Electric, to join them in St. Louis. Berto quit his job and moved into their back porch, which lacked air conditioning and heat, and spent the winter there. He slept on a mattress with their two dogs for warmth. He quickly landed work and began investing in real estate, as well.

When Ivan and his fiancee, Jenifer, got married in 1999, his younger brother, Johnny, met the bride's younger sister, Amelia, at the wedding. Johnny decided St. Louis might be the place for him, as well. (He and Amelia later got married.)

Johnny and older brother Miguel had been especially close growing up, so Miguel decided he could do his work as an IT consultant and Web developer remotely -- from St. Louis.

"Truth be told, we were having a good time, and no one wanted to be left out," Johnny said.

By then, they had decided to merge their real estate pursuits and create a family business, Garcia Properties.

Araceli followed a decade ago with her husband and children, and it was just a matter of time before they lured their parents and remaining sisters from Illinois. They persuaded Anna, a registered nurse in DeKalb, to join the company as a real estate agent.

"As a nurse, I saw many people alone when they were sick or at the end of their life. I made a note of that and thought, 'I want to be together. I want to live close,'" Anna said. Plus, she wanted to be able to see her nieces and nephews whenever any of them wanted to.

The youngest, Aileen, moved shortly before her parents did.

Today, most of the siblings live within a city block of one another. Six of them work together. They gather weekly for Sunday dinner at their parents' house and for a constant stream of birthdays, baptisms and confirmations.

For so many college-educated adult children to have relocated to a new city, largely drawn by familial ties, is unusual.

Economics professor Robert Pollak, of the Olin Business School at Washington University, co-authored a paper on a 2009 study looking at how often adult children live near their mothers. Adult children with college degrees are much less likely to live with or near their mothers, the study found. Among couples who both have college degrees, about half live more than 30 miles from both of their mothers and only 18 percent live within 30 miles of both mothers. But among couples who have no college degree, the situation is reversed. A college degree increases the chance of mobility and career opportunities away from one's hometown.

Moving was a daunting prospect for the Garcia parents after laying down roots for so long. "We had the comfort of the city where we called home for 30 years, we had all of our friends, our church community, and all the memories we had of our children growing up, but what we didn't have was our actual children," their mother said. A close friend of theirs asked why they were moving to the city.

"That is where our children are," she said. There was a moment of silence, and the friend responded, "You are truly blessed to have all your children in one city. My children are all over the country, coast to coast, and I won't live to see the day with my children all under the same roof again."

That conversation made the move easier.

"It made things clear for us," she said.

For those of us who do not get a visit from Santa this time of year, there can be some slightly awkward holiday moments.

Like the time in elementary school when my teacher instructed the class to write about our favorite Christmas gifts. I was afraid that if I wrote the truth, I might flunk the assignment, so I made up descriptions of new sweaters and toys. The few times I dared to tell classmates that Christmas morning was just like any other morning in our house, they looked at me with such disbelief and pity that I figured it was better to spare them the shock. It was a bit isolating to be left out of what seemed to be such a communal holiday.

And now, my children have had to negotiate their own responses to the well-intentioned questions by strangers and acquaintances.

We were waiting in line at the deli when a kindly older man leaned over to ask my then-preschooler what Santa was bringing her. She looked him square in the eye and said: "Nothing."

He got flustered, and I felt a little sorry for him. Every year, my children will be asked this question over and over by adults in malls, grocery stores and on the playground.

We've talked to our children about how each religion has its own special days, and remind them about our celebrations. My daughter accepted this explanation right away. But when my son kept insisting that surely Santa would visit his house, I got them each little presents and talked about the spirit of giving during this time of year.

I've never felt that the festivities of another culture or religion threaten my own. Our children should feel at ease appreciating their differences, and feel comfort in what they recognize as their own traditions.

To be honest, I'm a sucker for Christmas. I'll sing carols in the car or while shopping. I have several boxes of silver ornaments, garland on our fireplace and miniature decorative trees on our tables. I love buying gifts, and I can't resist holiday parties or cookies. I mail holiday cards with Eid stamps on the envelopes.

And as an adult, I've realized that it's a great time of year to celebrate as an outsider. I can enjoy the beauty of the season without the stress of unrealistic expectations. I'm glad my children don't get struck by the gimmes. Instead, we can adopt families who need gifts. We can tell people like our garbage workers, newspaper delivery man and neighbors that we appreciate them.

This year, I persuaded my spouse to string some lights on the pillars outside our home. It just looks festive. My youngest looked at me and said, "You know we don't celebrate Christmas, Mama."

I said: "I know. We're just having some holiday spirit."

A couple of nights later, he told me the Hanukkah story in surprising and accurate detail. He heard it last year from a parent volunteer who came to share the story with his class, and again this year from the school librarian.

I was impressed with his rendition. It seemed fitting for a season celebrating peace and love to have my Muslim child share a Jewish story days before we shopped for his teachers' Christmas gifts.

So, from our family to yours: Have a wonderful holiday, however you choose to celebrate.