Here we are, y’all. 15 days until Christmas. It feels right and seems impossible at the same time. As I sit down to type tonight, the house is quiet, minus the heat turning on and the wind howling outside my bedroom window. A simple night at home can feel rare in December so I am reveling in the silence before I shuffle over to clean the kitchen and make tomorrow’s lunches.
My thoughts feel a bit end-of-the-year-scattered tonight so I thought I’d write out some of the things I am learning in bullet form this month. Just for context, I had two full days at home alone (at least for the school hours) and sick on my couch, so I have had ample time to think. I am not that good at being sick. Is anyone? Doers aren’t- this I know. By the end of the second day I begin to question my life choices and that doesn’t really sound like rest. You can pray for me.
Here are some things I am learning and mulling over this month:
Encouragement will never die and will never stop being life-line important. I had a few opportunities in the last week to see good in someone and speak it and have had good, good words spoken over me. The filling of a human heart that happens with well-intentioned, timely words flabbergasts me still.
The wonderful gathering, meeting, lunch, service, coffee or party that you really (really) do not want to go to? Just go. I learned this being a new, tired mom while working with college students. There was never a night I felt energized or ‘ready’ enough to head out the door at 8 or 8:30 pm. I wanted my bed at that time. But after I showed up a number of times, I realized God does His best stuff when we show up. If you’re like me- post-Covid especially- there is still a necessary internal pump-up speech given so I DO go. But I haven’t been sorry yet for going. We’re all tired. Just go. Maybe there’s encouragement waiting for you or the chance to encourage another.
I took some time this week to write out a list of “______ is not for me right now.” And “______ is for me right now.” I noticed some rub and resentment growing in me from the natural boundaries put in place in my life. I took some dreams to God I really thought would come to fruition by now that just… haven’t. And I wrote how those dreams are not for me right now. It felt right to metaphorically bury them because when you believe in a resurrected Christ, burial doesn’t mean dead forever. It means dead for now. He is free to resurrect these dreams when and how He wishes. For now, though, it was super helpful to see on paper the roles/areas/passions that are a big YES currently and begin to live there with presence and gratitude instead of wishing, wondering about or forcing the things that are simply not for me right now.
I have become aware of little ways I hide who I am lately. At this point of my almost-40-year-old-life the ways I hide are subtle, but they are there. Commonly, I downplay how zealous I am. For God, for beauty, for His movement and care. And I don’t want to do that anymore. I desire to show more of me with each passing year. Some people just won’t get it. Some will. But some won’t. And I want to be me anyway.
I have written on my planner the last few weeks: Prayer is the win. Any time. In any way. Life as a mom is strangely the same and vastly different every single day. This can feel both disorienting and kind of boring. We’re all confused about it, honestly. So, a simple win has been extremely helpful to me lately. Do I join that morning prayer call? Yes! Prayer is the win. I am so done with this day, do I have it in me to kneel by her bed and pray with her? Yes! Prayer is the win. I am feeling anxious about this season. What do we buy/not buy? How do we best celebrate? What about our friends who are hurting? Maybe I should ask God about some of this? Yes! Prayer is the win. Then, at night when I wonder… what in the actual heck did I do with this day today? I can recall. I prayed. There. And there. And with them. When prayer is the win, any day can be a good day- no matter how circumstantially crappy.
When Christmas feels messy, hard or stressful I picture a sweaty, dirty pregnant teen making her uncomfortable way to a city she wasn’t familiar with so she could give birth to a very normal-looking baby amidst loud animals and sticky hay. The first Christmas was messy. But it wasn’t normal. Each of us feel the messy parts of Christmas, but we also feel the mysterious abnormality of it all. It can be both messy and a mystery because it has been both since that very first night. Lean in to the mess and the abnormal mystery- Christ did. Gloriously. If some of the Santa, elves and holly jollys feel a little flat for some reason this year, let this be your invitation into the reality of this story. It is slowly changing me and my perspective of this season in the most unexpected, beautiful ways.
Merry Christmas, friends.
Lots of books, learnings, and activity in the year (wow) to come.
Until 2025,
xoxo
