Dear Little Girl...The Gift Didn't Leave With the Wrapping Paper

Dear Little Girl…

You made it through the noise.

Through the expectations.
Through the lists and the plans and the pressure to make it all magical.

And here you are now…The house is quiet this morning.

And sitting here, this truth feels holy and clear:

I don’t want to scroll past my life.

One son has already left.
Another will leave soon.
And the miracle I prayed for — all of us together under one roof — came and went in less than two days.

I didn’t realize how much I missed us until we had it again.

Not the perfect version.
Not the Instagram version.
Just us — playing games, laughing, talking, being human together.
Forty hours. I’ll take it.

I tried so hard to be present.
I really did.
But even in the middle of the joy, I felt the pull — the phone, the to-do list, the future creeping in. And now, sitting here in the quiet, I realize how easy it is to miss a moment even while you’re living it.

This Christmas taught me something tender and uncomfortable at the same time:

I learned the real gift isn’t what we open —
it’s the present moment we’re finally willing to receive.

The way a room feels when everyone is home.
The sound of voices overlapping.
The calm that comes when we stop reaching for the next thing and stay with what’s already here.

God meets us here.
Not in the rush.
Not in the comparison.
But in the quiet yes to now.

I’m learning that presence is not passive.
It’s a practice.

When my mind races or my heart tightens, I put both feet on the floor.
I breathe.
I notice what’s right here:
what I can see, hear, touch, smell, taste.

And slowly, my body remembers it’s safe to be here.

Because the present moment keeps me out of a past I can’t change
and a future I can’t control.

Scripture says it plainly:

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
— 2 Corinthians 3:17

I’m beginning to understand that freedom doesn’t mean nothing hurts.
It means I don’t have to run from the moment I’m in.

Christmas didn’t end Thursday.
It’s still unfolding — in the quiet, in the ache, in the gratitude, in the breath I’m taking right now.

Maybe the invitation isn’t to recreate the magic.
Maybe it’s to receive it while it’s here.

So today, I’m putting my phone down a little sooner.
I’m listening a little longer.
I’m letting the gift stay unwrapped.

Because the real gift of Christmas isn’t what we open —
it’s the present moment we’re finally willing to receive.

Dear Little Girl...Let This Be Enough For Today

Dear Little Girl,

Christmas Eve has a way of holding everything at once.

Joy and ache.
Gratitude and longing.
Full rooms and the awareness that time is fleeting.

Today, tonight, you don’t need to resolve any of it.

There are moments when God gives us a gift that isn’t loud or permanent—
just present.

A table that gathers again.
Laughter that feels familiar.
A sense of calm that gently returns, even if only for a night.

Scripture reminds us that God doesn’t write His covenant on stone anymore—
He writes it on hearts (Hebrews 8).

Which means today isn’t about doing more, fixing more, or proving anything.

It’s about remembering.

Remembering how far you’ve come.
Remembering that provision has met you again and again.
Remembering that love still shows up—in imperfect, human ways.

Faith doesn’t always feel like certainty.
Sometimes it feels like lighting a candle in the dark
and trusting that the light is enough for now.

So if your heart feels full and tender right now,
you’re doing Christmas right.

Dear Little Girl,
Let joy be joy without asking it to last forever.
Let peace be peace without demanding it solve tomorrow.
And let this moment be enough for right now.

God is near.
And that is the miracle.

God, thank You for this moment.
For presence instead of answers.
For light instead of certainty.
Help me receive what is here,
and trust You with what comes next.
Amen.

PS…Happy Eve Birthday to Jesus!!!!!