When Christmas Looks Different

I used to be a Christmas nut.  I would torture (or at least they claim) my children with Christmas songs as soon as the first hint of Fall approached.  I decorated every corner and multiple Christmas Trees.  I hosted friends, family, and neighbors. I cooked and baked with joy. I took lots of family photos and tried to pick the perfect gifts. Year round I made check lists and did Christmas crafts in preparation for my beloved season. I thoughtfully created traditions and hopefully memories for my family. I tried to keep Christ at the center of celebrations. 

So, when Christmas rolls around it feels like it should be a warm, familiar embrace. But this year, Christmas looks different; the usual routines have shifted, loved ones are far away, and life’s unexpected turns have finally wiped away the comfort of traditions and there aren’t new ones yet in place. I also know that new traditions aren’t likely to emerge any time soon, especially ones that resemble what my life-long “ideal’ of what Christmas should be.

This year, I can’t help but feel disconnected from the usual Christmas spirit. In some ways it is hard to find excitement when the season feels foreign, as if the magic has slipped through my fingers. And yet, maybe it’s okay to sit with these feelings for a while.

The familiar family gatherings, filled with laughter and the clinking of dishes, which honestly, have been slowly changing over the last few years, have now faded into quieter, smaller moments, which isn’t all bad. It’s not anger, I feel—just a deep sadness for what’s been lost. Traditions that once felt unshakable have shifted, and the absence of loved ones dull some of the sparkle of the season. Still, amidst this holiday funk, there is a quiet gratitude for the memories and a gentle hope that new traditions find their place in time. In this season of quiet there is more time to remember truly why we celebrate...the birth of a Savior.

For me, change is a hard gift to unwrap anytime, especially when it comes to family. It can feel like a loss, a reminder of what once was. It is tinged with a touch of loneliness.  Yet, I am learning there’s beauty in learning to let go—in finding joy and true meaning even when the season’s usual routines are just memories.  I think the greatest lesson a different kind of Christmas has taught me is the art of letting go. Letting go of expectations. Letting go of the need for control. Letting others chose their paths. Letting go of what was, to make room for what is and what could be. In this surrender, there is peace.