Kimberlee K.

The holidays can be funny.

I’m lucky enough to have been born into a loving, supportive family, and we relish the opportunity to get together in this season. We love carrying out long standing traditions and hanging around in kitchens and living rooms, chatting and laughing and recalling inside jokes that would take too long to reveal the root of. We have no problems sitting on floors, or on the arms of chairs, or on each other’s laps until someone’s legs go numb, all while calling across the room for someone to hand us our eleventh cookie.

But I know this isn’t everyone’s experience.

And I know that while department stores and social media posts alike will ask you to “spread cheer!!” and “celebrate!!” and “make the most of this season!!” some of us wait patiently (or impatiently) for it to simply be over.

The comparison trap looms larger than usual during the holidays, with everyone sharing their best pictures and happiest moments. And the whiplash of going to a loud, lively event and then returning to a quiet, lonely house can be unsettling. We might spite the wall of Christmas cards that’s smaller than last year, or feel guilt for buying gifts that are not as expensive as those we’ve seen others receive. We might resent the joy being felt by seemingly everyone around us while we are hurting, or worrying, or wondering if this season will be nothing but grief.

It’s a time when the collision of opposite experiences is perhaps felt the most, both when we compare our lives to those around us, and when we try and make sense of the conflicting emotions we feel inside.

So I just wanted to pray for everything that might be sizzling under the surface.

For the struggles that are simmering, even as you listen to upbeat Christmas music.

For the discontent that threatens to blind us of our blessings.

For the grief that has sucked all the sparkle out of this season.

For the tension that has stiffened the shoulders of family and friends.

I pray that those in the thick of joy would continue to feel it in abundance, but would also know it’s okay to feel fatigued, let down, a little heartbroken.

I pray that those running running running too fast would know it’s okay to slow down, to pause, to do nothing.

I pray that those who feel forgotten by the “magic” of this time of year would find it where they least expect it.

I pray that the eyes of those who have lost focus on the small things would once again find wonder in the ordinary—that vanity wouldn’t devalue the simple virtues, and pride wouldn’t waste time only given once.

I pray for happy mornings in pajamas with cinnamon rolls in the oven, and late nights driving around looking at Christmas lights with tiny voices saying, “wow” in the backseat.

I pray that genuine conversations and connections would outwit egos and selfishness, and that gifts would be given all over the world that make people feel seen, heard, and understood.

I pray this season would pass gracefully, taking care to make everyone feel taken care of.

I pray for the twelfth and thirteenth cookie to be tossed across the room, and for arms to be thrown around shoulders while the words, “I’m so glad you’re here,” are spoken over and over again.

I pray the reason for the season would shine through brighter than ever before, and that the “more” we seek in these December days would less and less be disguised as price tags, filters, or clicks, and more and more reveal itself as love.

Amen.

“We love each other because he loved us first.” 1 John 4:19