The holiday season is fully unwrapped; bits of paper and ribbon are strewn about, not only on my floor, but also in my mind. I find myself longing for a clean canvas. We have been working up to something: the big event. Everything merry and bright. Trees covered in tinsel, mugs with snowmen and bells on dog collars. This season is warm and jolly and it is also loud and busy. Many of us can become frustrated with the holiday season. It demands a lot from us. All the cards to address and gifts to buy and bows to tie. Like a good party, its fun; but after a while you just want to bury yourself in the coat pile and take a nap.

As all children, I loved the Christmas season! It was not, however, for the meaning of the holiday or the family time, but for all the unabashed consumerism. I felt zero shame in making an outlandish list of toys—this was, as far as I was concerned, the point. Once I entered young adulthood, however, my enchantment with the whole thing shattered like a dropped Christmas tree ball. I became decidedly anti-holiday and Christmas was the biggest offender in my mind. It was just all about things. And just so there is no confusion, I still wanted “things” to be under the tree on December 25th, but I was above it in an “emotional” sense. I scoffed at dishes with Santa, fake garlands, candy canes and holly-shaped soaps; outside of some white lights, Christmas décor was way over done. It was was just trying too hard.

Yet, age changes one’s perspective. The further I swim out into the lake of life. the more I find myself looking for a floating dock. A touchstone. A place to rest on my journey through this world. Holidays have taken on a new meaning for me. And Christmas, I must confess has become my favorite of traditions. I find it a great comfort. Not for its hot drinks and iced cookies, not even for its dancing lights or new mittens, but as a landing place. A safe spot to climb out of the waters of life and look around a bit. Or should I say look up a bit. The singing angels and shining lights are not there to illuminate what we have or don’t have, for that matter, but to remind us once a year of the babe in the manger. The holidays often seem to point out what we don’t have—that missing person, that broken relationship, that lack of resources; and while these things are melancholy, they do not take away from what God did for us. For all the pain, all the lack, all the loss—God sent His Son.

What are some resting places in your life?

What floating docks do you swim to throughout the year?

Our Christmas this year was more sober than most. We experienced a great loss. It was hard to celebrate in the face of grief. But I found myself still thankful for the floating dock of Christmas. A place to hold on and rest. It was not rest for my body, far from it; but rest for my soul. Knowing on this longest of nights we stop to celebrate The Word made flesh, laid in a manger and the hope for all humanity. Now, as the season is passed, and we are on the other side, staring a long cold January in the eyes, I’m thankful for the warmth of that little manger scene. I have a Saviour that understands my fragility. He cried for his mother, was tempted, hungered, felt betrayal, bled, suffered and died. All so very human. So very us.

Hebrews 4:15

For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feelings of our infirmities: but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.

As I take down Christmas cards and put away my new little treasures and eat the very last star cookie, I am thankful, and perhaps, more so than I was in the moment. I stayed up too late laughing on the couch, watched people I love open gifts, and sipped clove-laden hot toddies after a funeral. Now the pretty paper is in the bin, the tree is shedding needles and yes, that cookie was a bit stale. It’s time to get off the dock and swim back into life. I will carry this season with me, some of it is heavy and weighs me down, but some of it lifts me up. I’m ready to get back to work. I’m planning to spend more time in prayer and study. Already I’ve experienced new revelations in my understanding of God and my place. I’m doing a deep dive into warfare and praise. I’m using my new pens to mark up great spiritual books gifted me this season.

I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I do think the ritual has its place. We have celebrated, (and perhaps mourned), we have ate too much chocolate and cheese, we hung ornaments and sang in candle-lit churches. It’s difficult to take it all down; hard to go back to the bareness of it all. Gingerbread smells that wafted through our kitchens are replaced by the hint of cleaning sprays and totes of greenery are placed in the attic, stockings are put away. Now is a time to look ahead. The cycle of the year has washed us up on a new shore.

Now I look to my spiritual goals. To grow closer to the Lord. To understand my faith better. To do more of His work. I want to equip myself for the long swim. And yet, we typically focus on our physical health and set goals towards earthly accolades. But what is beyond that? What awaits past the here and now? With age, with trials, with loss we become more aware of our limits.

Remember ye not the former things neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and river in the desert.

Isaiah 43:18-19

Hope is the answer. Expectancy for what is over the horizon. I can’t always find my way to hope. I get lost in the tangles of this life. Like a fretful night, I toss and turn and become caught up in blankets that weigh me down. But all I need to do is turn on a light and see that it’s just a dream. This life is but a vapor. Smoke. The glow of truth chases away the monsters. We have a God who loves us so much he sent His Son as our Redeemer. On our best day and our worst day and all the hours in between, that is always true. The hope is always there, but sometimes I can’t see it and I have to rely on faith. I need to grow my faith by reading the Bible, praying the scriptures and speaking the truth with my mouth, so that the lies are chased away.

I look out at the blank pages of this year—as a white snowy day, a cold lake, a smoothed out sheet—and aim to cross more pages of the scriptures, walk in the beauty of nature, swim in the waters of life and rest in the Lord.

What are your aspirations for this year?

Have you considered setting spiritual goals?

I often think of snow as a reminder that God keeps giving us fresh starts. His blessings are new every morning, He covers our messy sin with fresh clean snow. We can always have a new start with God, as His children we are granted Christ’s covering. I love to stare out at a snowy field, a sparkling white canvas. That is how God sees us when we come to him asking forgiveness, seeking help and guidance. He paints over all our mistakes like fresh white snow over a muddy pasture. He beckons us to follow Him. He gives us rest and then encourages us to jump back in the water, to walk on a new path.

Where will your footprints lead?

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