Merry and Bright…

I’ve stopped. 

Stopped “doing” for the holiday as of this very moment. 

The important things are done. The presents are wrapped, and the grocery shopping is finished. And that is a lot more completed than others. 

But friends, I decided that the laundry mountain I ‘should’ fold can be shoved in the bedroom and a star placed upon the top. It isn’t imperative to our lives to have neatly folded and organized clothing for a few days. 

The floors will not be vacuumed or swept by Christmas morning. 

Dishes will be done on an ‘as needed’ basis. 

Nothing is going to be dusted, I can see it as I sit here from my perch on the sofa, overlooking my decorations of merriment. The sun, which has been sleeping behind clouds this past week, is blinding right now; screaming through my living room window, and giving impeccable definition to the dust on every open layer in this room. But I fear disturbing it might disturb the magic of the season. So I’ll let it settle. 

My friends, the ride or die kind, understand that I still love them even though they don’t have a card or gift in the mail. And really, isn’t this the time of year for friendships to be strengthened by such things?

The beds will remain unmade. The showers will not be scrubbed. And the whole family will continue to step over the growing stack of items on the stairs that need to go up.

I am ripping up my very long, overly involved to-do list, my friends.

So as I sit, having stopped; before I crack open a book for the duration, I turn on the peaceful holiday radio station I’ve been enjoying lately and take a deep breath to stare blankly at my little tree; and suddenly, here in my little corner of the world, I am caught, unexpectedly, by this moment.

The past floats before me; memories settle themselves beside me and pat my hand. There are good times seated next to the really rough times. There are tears and cringe worthy memories laughing together. Failures and successes lie on their backs staring up at the tree, squinting their eyes, giving illusion to the white twinkle lights. In front of the fireplace, my hopes and dreams cuddle next to a lifetime of fears. Regrets and the best days of my life, dance around the room in a waltz of forgiveness and heartache. 

And I never expected to find this moment of peace just because I stopped. 

But that’s where the magic happens sometimes, isn’t it? When we are quiet. When we stop. There is power pausing for just one brief moment. 

However you spend your winter season, I wish you peace in the pause. A deep breath of delight in the stopping. I wish you one quiet moment to yourself where you might squint your eyes as you gaze upon the candlelight and let the illusion of light be a comfort and a joy.

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