This is my favorite time of year. It’s called the holiday season, but it feels more like home to me. For a solid 6 weeks each year, I feel magical and tingly and happy. Well, mostly. Sometimes I need a little help and a reminder or two that everything in life happens for a reason. And somehow, this time of year does it for me every time.
The holiday season is a season of comfort. But not just physical comfort. It’s the familiarity and nostalgia that encompasses me like a warm blanket. It’s the smell of a fire and fresh pine. It’s apples and cinnamon and pajamas and baking. It’s extra hugs and I love yous and well wishes from the far corners of the earth.
This season is about remembering that while some days are harder than others, we keep going and learning and laughing and loving. It’s for giving thanks and pausing to even acknowledge what we should be thankful for. It’s knowing that no matter what happens, we have each other, our faith and our friends to lean on. And knowing that when we lean, we will stand again stronger than before.
The holiday season tempts us to rush around fretting and shopping and planning and worrying. But for me, this is a season of rest, of putting others before myself and trying to show the wonder and beauty of the changing seasons to the people I love. It’s about being generous with my love. Not just to my friends and family, but to myself too.
The holidays are about grace. And I can’t think of anything more comforting than that.