The season from Thanksgiving to Christmas is usually extra angst-ridden. On one hand it is my favorite time of the year. I love time off with family, decorating, baking, celebrating, pausing to be mindful of and thankful for all of the good in my life. On the other hand I find myself more mindful than usual that life, like the old year, is fleeting
Sometimes the innocent wonder of a child points us back toward what’s really important. As December approaches, we can feel pressured to put together the perfect Christmas. That drive for perfection steals our joy and piles on the stress whenever our holiday, or when life, gets messy. We can truly experience Christmas by looking past the messes in our lives, focusing on the Child in the manger, and worshipping Him as the One who was called “Wonderful” hundreds of years before His birth by the prophet Isaiah.
Weirdness is what makes us unique. It’s those little things that are off the grid, not always easy to understand, impossible to replicate. Weirdness is us in our rawest forms. Unpolished. Honest. Hopefully open to interpretation, growth, and change, but weirdness is our truth. I would argue it’s the magic that draws us to someone or something—when we recognize another’s weirdness matches up with ours, and we are not alone. Anne of Green Gables might call those people kindred spirits.
When I started writing this blog, I set myself the goal of two entries per week. I thought that seemed reasonable. And I met that goal pretty well for awhile. Then life happened over the past ten days, as it tends to do. And like running, that other pesky discipline that keeps me healthy, blog writing went straight out the window.