Christmas Presence

This morning, the air is cool.

Not uncomfortable just cool enough to be noticed as it touches my skin, my feet, my neck.

The house is still quiet.

Not empty. Not lonely.

Just resting.

Christmas often arrives carrying promises

excitement, joy, peace.

But those things don’t always arrive all at once,

and they don’t always look the way we imagined.

Sometimes they arrive quietly,

in the noticing.

This morning, I breathe in what is here.

The calm.

The gentle peace of a moment that isn’t asking anything of me.

I remember that joy and peace aren’t places we get to

they’re states we soften into.

They appear when we allow ourselves to be present,

just as we are.

My coffee is warm and sharp on my tongue,

comfort following close behind.

The kettle hums.

The furnace stirs.

Soft sounds moving through the stillness without disturbing it.

Nothing remarkable is happening.

And yet, this feels like enough.

This past year has reminded me of something tender.

That I am kind.

That I am sincere.

That I carry love naturally, without effort.

In the coming year, I want to treat that part of me gently.

To let her shine without pushing.

To let her experience life without bracing.

To let her receive, even when giving feels more familiar.

So today, on this quiet Christmas morning,

I offer myself a small permission.

To receive what is meant for me.

To rest in the moment I’m already in.

To trust that this, right now, is enough.

No grand declarations.

No expectations to meet.

Just a soft breath.

A warm cup.

And the simple grace of being here.