A Chance for December Stillness

My favorite childhood Christmas memory is one I can pull up from my mind as easily as a photo stored on my phone. I don’t even have to try, actually, because it’s the first image that pops into my mind when I think about the Christmas season.

I remember a teenage me, complete with braces, braided pigtails, and flannel pajamas, baking Christmas cookies in the kitchen with my mom late into the night on Christmas Eve.

After everyone else had already gone to bed, the two of us stayed up to bake. We laughed and mixed and stirred as the scent and warmth of freshly baked Christmas cookies swirled around us inside our kitchen and snowflakes twirled to the ground outside.

It was our own, dreamlike snow globe. No interruptions. No news channel blaring in the background. No phones. Just the two of us in that small, sweet moment that I’ll cherish forever.

Now that I’m a mom of three, I marvel at that moment. Every Advent, it feels like we’re running wind sprints that start with a bang the first day of December and only intensify as the month goes on. By the week of Christmas, we’ve added burpees and cut out rest breaks. Parties, pageants, celebrations, shopping, travel… it can really be a lot.

When Christmas Day arrives, I feel a sense of relief that we can all, finally, blessedly, stop the madness. Only to begin thinking of what the new year will bring—or, more accurately, how we can fill the new year with as many activities and accomplishments as possible.

This year, I want things to be different. I’ve said that before, sure, but, “I want this year to be different,” isn’t an actual goal. That’s like setting a goal to “be happier” or “be healthier.”

But… how? What’s my actual vision of what “different” looks like?

What are some steps I can take or some measures I can put into place, week by week leading up to Christmas? How do I set up goals for less?

Be still, and know that I am God. —Psalm 46:10

As I sit down today to plan a “different” Advent season for my family, I am reminded by Psalm 46:10 to be still. To pause. To take a breath. To pray. Especially in such stressful times as these.

“Different” for me looks like an Advent where we collectively find that stillness. For my family, maybe we simply don’t go to events that feel like too much. We attend only those that are the most meaningful, and, knowing that December will become busier than we’d like, we carve out time for peace and quiet and togetherness. During those times, we guard against distractions and put away our devices and news and noise from the outside. We fill the room with laughter and cookies and memories instead.

When so much seems out of control in the world, it helps to think about what I can do to facilitate calm for my family in a small way, in this small season of Advent. I can:

1. Take the time to write down all of the December events we might be invited to or expected to attend. Choose only the most meaningful ahead of time, and commit to that choice. Politely decline (and cross out) the rest.

2. Put days and times on the calendar for “together” time. Set aside distractions during those times and open up a space for peace.

3. Expect (and even strive for) imperfection. While I have a vision in my mind of how I’d like the season to unfold, I know that sometimes the best moments are those when nothing goes right—the cookies burn, the milk spills, and, unfathomably, a plate falls to the floor and shatters—and all there is left to do is laugh.

I know I can’t recreate the special Advent memory from my childhood any more than I can create a magical swirl of snowflakes outside our window. But maybe, just maybe, I can open up the space and slow down enough for a chance—just a chance—at a small amount of peace and stillness, and at creating a few new lasting memories of our own.