Trading finishing strong for slowing down
An invitation to rest in a season of rushing
In case anyone else feels like December snuck up on them this year, let me start by saying I still have pumpkins on my doorstep. (I’m writing this on December 12th.) Phew. Glad we got that out of the way.
I found myself in a conversation of moms who were all stressed with the holidays. They were scheduling out their months with holiday festivities that were never ending, checking off lists, and feeling the pressure to create holiday magic. Truthfully, I’m just not that kind of mom. At the time I found myself in this conversation I hadn’t even put a Christmas tree up yet and I was entirely unbothered by that fact.
Trauma has slowed my life down.
For a while, I thought it might freeze me forever. But now I find the slower pace comfortable, joyful even. It felt like my world came to a crashing halt. I couldn’t manage to dream for a long time after everything happened. It felt like a privilege to simply hold my baby last Christmas and I couldn’t pressure myself to do anything but exist in the world.
Now, I feel more like myself in some ways but have also embraced the fact that I am forever changed. I got back on my social media accounts to share more about the podcast, Holy Labor, as I felt God call me to show up online again. The social media world hasn’t changed a bit—but I have.
A new mom was sharing these activities she was doing every day for advent and they looked…intense. It reminded me of trying to make ornaments with my son’s footprints last year. He spilled the paint everywhere, we both cried, the ornaments looked so awful I threw them out, and I spent a week feeling guilty about whether or not the paint was toxic.
When I saw this new mom’s post I thought of a mantra one of my good friends often reminds me of: “good for her, not for me.”
She appears to be loving her advent activities and good for her. For me, I still haven’t found the motivation to remove my pumpkins from the porch.
I haven’t decided what Christmas decorations will make it out of the attic this year. Maybe it’s because God has taught me something through trauma that I didn’t know I needed to learn: I can trust this pace.
No one is asking me to perform my way through December. God isn’t asking me to squeeze magic out of my days. My worth isn’t measured by the number of lights on my house, the Christmas crafts I complete, or the Instagram-worthy pictures I share.
The way God moves is so opposite of the world. Slower, quieter, and truly, more beautiful.
“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.” Isaiah 30:15
The first Christmas wasn’t about perfection or performance. It was a beautiful mess—a stable, a manger, a tired mother, and a baby—God with us.
I’m learning to remember that the most sacred moments often don’t appear to be anything special to the outside world: a baby resting in his mother’s arms, a family gathered around a simple meal, a moment of quiet in a world that is often too loud.
If the pressure to finish the year strong feels like too much for you too, I invite you to slow down instead. To soak in the joy of little things. To notice God’s presence in the simplicity of being still. To remember that God showed up in the ordinary. To rest in the knowledge that He is enough, and because of that, so are we.
“Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is nothing at all.” — Pete Scazzero
“Good for her, not for me” is literally carrying me through all the things with motherhood and just being a young adult in this day and age.
I also loved how you talked about the Lord moving at a much slower pace than we do. It reminds me of something Lisa Harper (love her so much!) said where Jesus’s ministry moved at a pace of 3mph, essentially saying how he moved slow enough to really see people and be present with them. It was very inspiring considering how fast-paced our world is.
This is sooooo good!