Making Room for Christmas

IMost people who know me know this: I move fast. I get an idea, and I want to make it happen now. I’m wired to push forward, check things off, and avoid anything that feels slow.

I’ve heard people complain about the busyness of Christmas, but I never really understood it. All the running around — buying presents, decorating, making things magical — that was the fun part for me. But I’m struggling this year. I have no interest in any of it. We don’t have a tree up. I haven’t bought a single present. After six months of building Christmas photo settings, I’m honestly not in the Christmas spirit at all.

Why? Maybe I’m just tired. Building a business, responding to messages at all hours, living on 2.5 acres where something always needs fixing… it all catches up with you.

And yet, I know I need to make something happen. My girls are longing for the Christmas joys we once had. We used to ride bikes through the neighborhood at night to see Christmas lights. We went to concerts, ice skating, baked cookies as a family. We’ve been in transition for the last four years, and I feel like I haven’t delivered on the traditions they remember so fondly.

How can I make Christmas real to them again?
I think the answer — or at least part of it — is that God is telling me it’s not in all of that stuff. All the activities. All the rushing.

Years ago, when I was living with my parents, I was in a hurry to get somewhere in Van Wert. There’s a curve in town that always tests my patience, because people take it ridiculously slow. Sure enough, someone was crawling through it that day. I was behind them, fuming, thinking all sorts of impatient thoughts.

And then we came around the bend, and I looked more closely.

I recognized the vehicle.
I looked again and saw the top of a tiny head just peeking above the headrest.

It was my grandma.

My sweet, gentle, impossibly kind grandma — the woman you simply could not be angry with — was the one I had been internally yelling at. The shame hit instantly. It felt like God tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Slow down. Look. See the person, not the task.” I’ve never forgotten that moment.

I thought coming home, controlling my schedule, stepping away from the pressures of my old jobs would make me more present. Over the summer, I even made my mantra a quote from Mother Teresa:

“If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.”

I truly believed I could make more space for them with this new business. But instead, I filled my life with even more tasks. Too often, my conversations with my girls revolve around chores and responsibilities — not the connection I hoped for.

But that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. We are meant to make room for one another. God made room among us, in the most unexpected places, to be with His people. And maybe part of honoring that is creating room in our crowded lives to truly see the people right in front of us.

So this season, I’m not promising to suddenly become balanced or serene. I’m not pretending I have this figured out. But I am making a quiet commitment — to slow down enough to see my girls, my husband, my family… the way I should have seen my grandma that day on the curve.

I don’t want to miss the people God has placed in front of me.

And that is the space I’m learning to make — not only at The Gathering Table, but, more importantly, in my own heart.