I’ll be honest: I won’t be sad to see 2020 disappear. It has been an incredibly difficult year for so many, and while I am grateful my family is healthy, we have food on the table, and a roof over our heads, this year has taught me lessons I’ll carry for life.
In the quiet evenings leading up to Christmas, after the kids are in bed and Robert is often snoring on the couch, I make a small ritual of turning off the screens and letting the house settle. In that dim glow I reflect, breathe, and let the year’s lessons sink in.
This year I joined my blogger friend Rachel’s annual Christmas Night Tour again, a quiet, candlelit tradition where a group of home bloggers share small, peaceful moments in their homes. It’s the kind of post that brings calm instead of clicks — no shopping links, no big projects, just a gentle pause.
If you’re visiting from Janine’s beautiful home at Happy Happy Nester, welcome. It feels meaningful to travel from one warm corner of the internet to another and to pause together.
I’m especially thankful for this tour tradition because it gives me what almost no other post can: peace. During a year of constant change and uncertainty, carving out time to slow down and be present felt more valuable than ever.
As stressful as 2020 has been, it brought unexpected gifts. I didn’t simply lose a calendar full of plans; I gained hours with my children that would otherwise have been swallowed by commitments. I didn’t just miss travel — I found space to tend to our life right here at home. I didn’t only lose long-distance visits with friends — I discovered ways to be a better neighbor nearby.
While I eagerly look forward to the day when our home is full of out-of-town guests and big family gatherings again, I can’t help but feel grateful for the perspective this year forced on me. I will never take a date night at the movies, a Sunday worship service, or a meal out with friends for granted again.
More than anything, this year has lit a fire in me to give. Seeing neighbors and friends struggle has renewed my desire to share what I have been blessed with. I want to use resources, time, and energy to lift others up — to be practical, compassionate, and present.
Through the ups and downs of this year, I’ve been so grateful for you — the readers and friends who show up, leave encouraging comments, and send kind messages. On days when I wonder if I deserve this job or this life, your warmth reminds me I’m not alone. I hope this space gives some of that encouragement back to you.
Whatever this year looked like for you, please know you are loved and worthy. Sometimes the best remedy for heavy days is a quiet minute: turn off the TV, set your phone aside, and sit by the soft glow of the tree or the crackle of the fireplace. Let the stillness remind you that renewal is possible and that better days are ahead.
This season reminded me of a simple truth: be still. “Be still and know that I am with you.” — Psalm 46:10. In those quiet minutes I find room to hope, to grieve, to give thanks, and to plan for the future with fresh perspective.
If you need permission to slow down, consider this it. Take a moment for yourself; breathe, reflect, and let peace in. That quiet can reset your heart and prepare you for the love and joys coming in the new year.
Wishing you and your family a peaceful and merry Christmas. Thank you for being here. See you in 2021.