We are officially on the Christmas countdown clock—less than two weeks to go—and I’ll be honest: this is one of those years where I feel like I might be crawling across the finish line. I started the season with good intentions, energy, and a long list of “special projects” meant to bless lots of people. Somewhere along the way, most of those projects went sideways. What didn’t go sideways was my back, which went completely out, followed shortly by laryngitis.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
Merry Christmas.
Lying there, forced to be still, I had an unexpected realization: none of the people I love actually wanted any of that extra stuff. They didn’t want perfectly executed plans or carefully curated holiday magic. They just wanted me—present, available, and intact.
So why do we do this to ourselves?
Last week I watched a movie on Amazon called Oh. What. Fun. It’s about an overworked mom who runs away on Christmas Eve because she feels unappreciated by her family. And honestly, she was. But what struck me most was how familiar her pattern felt. She was doing everything, asking for nothing, and fiercely holding onto traditions her family had quietly outgrown—or wanted to change. In classic fashion, she carried the whole holiday on her shoulders and then felt crushed by the weight of it.
If we’re honest, many of us do the same thing. We exhaust ourselves trying to create “the perfect Christmas,” often without checking whether anyone actually needs—or wants—what we’re sacrificing ourselves to provide.
Somewhere in the middle of all that striving, we can lose sight of the true meaning of the season. As women especially, we sometimes start to believe we are the sacrificial lambs of the holidays. But Scripture is clear: that role has already been filled. “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).
Jesus doesn’t ask us to replace Him by burning ourselves out in the name of love. In fact, He invites us to something very different: “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).
One line from the movie stayed with me. The main character says, “Everyone wants to have fun, but no one realizes that fun is hard work.” And while there’s some truth in that, I’ve been wondering—does it actually have to be?
At Thanksgiving this year, some friends brought games. I hadn’t planned for that. It wasn’t on my hosting checklist or timeline. But that unplanned moment ended up being the most joyful part of the day—full of laughter, connection, and presence. It wasn’t manufactured. It wasn’t exhausting. It was simply people being together.
That experience reminded me of what Scripture has been telling us all along: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24). Rejoicing isn’t something we force through over-planning. It’s something that often shows up when we loosen our grip and allow space for grace.
Maybe the problem isn’t that we aren’t doing enough for Christmas. Maybe we’re just doing too much of the wrong things. Maybe Christmas doesn’t need our exhaustion or our perfection. Maybe it needs our presence.
At CCM, we see every day what happens when people are stretched too thin—emotionally, physically, spiritually. Healing rarely happens in chaos. It happens in safety, connection, and rest. That truth applies just as much to the holidays as it does to the rest of the year.
So, if you’re feeling tired, overwhelmed, or behind this season, consider this your permission slip to simplify. Let go of what isn’t serving love. Choose people over projects. Rest over rigid tradition. Meaning over madness.
Jesus came not to add weight to our lives, but to bring light into them. And sometimes the most faithful thing we can do this Christmas is stop striving, sit down, and simply be present with the people—and the God—who love us. That, it turns out, is more than enough.
From all of us at Caring Counseling Ministries, we wish you a Christmas filled with grace, rest, and meaningful connection. May you give yourself permission to slow down, let go of what isn’t necessary, and receive the peace Christ so freely offers. You don’t have to carry it all—and you never were meant to.
No responses yet