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During the Christmas season I usually become staunchly aware of how little time there really is.  I become nostalgic and. . . I drop balls.  Lots of them.

I then have this, totally unhealthy, pattern that unfolds.  First, I feel like an awful mother.  An awful wife.  An awful friend. . . employer, sister, daughter. . . .and on and on.  THEN I move from shame to anger and blame.   

I get pissed!  

I take a little time to rage against the expectations and the patriarchy and all this commercialized ridiculousness.  Seriously, this is a well-worn soapbox.

BUT, here’s the thing.  The truth is that I really love this season.  I love twinkle lights and candles and advent calendars and the magic of Santa Clause and the Elf on the Shelf.  I love the story of Mary and Jesus so much – the journey, the birth, the gifts, and all the hope.  The magic of this season brings me to tears.  

AND there is just so much to do this time of year.     

So, this year, as family and friends arrive, and as I make the choice to sip eggnog next to the Christmas tree, or watch one more Christmas movie with the kids, I look at a variety of things that need to be done, and say “Something’s gotta give, and this is it.”

I hope some of you resonate with this little poem I wrote the other day as I moved through my shame, anger, blame pattern, and into a little peace and acceptance.  

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Holidays – I love y’all.   

Something’s Gotta Give, and This Is It.

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The house is a wreck and the dishes are dirty. 

Laundry is growing out of the couch.

Windows, baseboards, blinds, the ring inside the toilet.   

Something’s gotta give and this it.

My car.  (Place a dramatic and pause and audible exhale here)

Yep, something’s gotta give and this is it.  

Blocks, and Legos, and crafts all over the house. 

And dare I mention the squatters taking up residence inside and under my couch.

Something’s gotta give and this is it. 

The biggest problems can’t be fixed in a day or even a week or two.

The dishes, the baseboards, the spilled milk in my car. . .

Have I mentioned the laundry? 

Just a couple hours and these (quote) “problems” can be fixed, often with relative ease. 

It is not so with our health, our relationships, or the legacy we leave. 

The health of our body.  

The health of the earth. 

The health of the mission we painstakingly birth.

The health of our relationships with our family and friends. 

These kinds of problems, quite simply, take years to mend.

Something’s gotta give, and it’s gonna be the dishes for sure.  

The laundry.

The dusty baseboards and blinds.

And that DAMN STUBBORN toilet ring that abides. 

So, this is my mantra. 

My manifesto, if you will, during this season and throughout the coming year:  

Grace to focus on what matters most and radical permission to say… 

“Something’s gotta give, and this is it!”