The kind of Christmas Calling You
Certain moments have imprint upon my consciousness.
Not big ones — but tiny moments of sensation that catch me off-guard, yet awake.
Entering a silent room, hearing nothing but my soles upon the floor.
Noticing the reflection of a tree in a puddle.
Stopping to gaze at rain dusting the hour-glass water.
Years back, I can recall the throws of depression.
Much of my time was spent alone — with my tiny daughter in tow.
Christmas was upon us and yet I had nothing; no mental or emotional energy to engage it.
So I decided instead of “creating Christmas”, I would let Christmas come find me.
And that it did.
In the quiet, my heart and God spoke loudly.
Spontaneously, I found myself singing songs.
I spent most evenings crafting Christmas gifts and hand delivering our family cards.
My daughter joined me for all of it — equally stamping her artistic touch.
We rounded block corners nightly, and watched as the number of houses lit up grew.
And I lit a candle by night, speaking one simple but powerful prayer.
Largely that was it.
By far, it was my least fancy and fussy Christmas.
And yet, it’s likely the one I remember most.
It didn’t just look different on the outside, it felt very different inside my soul.
I was slow enough to savour.
Quiet enough to hear.
Still long enough to notice all of the things I love most about the season.
The magic that fills this time of year.
Hope.
Peace.
Love.
And not just buzz words on shop windows — but the palpable reality I found myself immersed in that year.
Quiet, slow advent nights.
That year, it chose me. But this year, I’m choosing it.
Wherever you find yourself in our currently global unfolding, my heart extends a prayer:
That you’d hear the invitation gently knocking on the door of yours.
What is it that’s asking to be let in and sat with for a season?
Together, let’s return this Christmas:
To the silence and the stillness of advent — prayer, candles and stories.
To the joyful creation of gifts — hobbies, art and passion.
To the nurturing of our minds and bodies with restf — slow evenings by the tree.
To the people right in front of us, who love us and cherish our presence most.
If like me, you enjoy a reflective pause, I invite you to spend this next month reviewing your year.
Notice the ways you’ve grown in 2020 and the shifts that presented themselves.
Acknowledge the nuggets of wisdom you want to take forward into the new year.
Ponder how you will continue to cultivate inner peace amidst outer chaos.
It’s a pertinent time, if any, to get clear on what we want — and what we truly need in life.