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Christmas is one of my favorite seasons—the soft glow of lights, the smell of evergreen, and the familiar carols that can lift a weary heart in an instant. But it’s also a season that can feel unexpectedly heavy. The memories, the pressure, and even the grief we carry sometimes hide behind the sparkle.
As the years change, our traditions shift with them. Traditions are beautiful because they anchor memories, but they must be held loosely.
One of my favorite family stories proves this perfectly. My grandmother—prim, proper, and the kind of homemaker Martha Stewart would admire—believed that “if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” Every Thanksgiving she made the perfect turkey. One year, my dad carried it proudly to the table, carved it, and right there in the center was… the sink drain stopper. She had stuffed it right along with the dressing! My grandmother gasped, “Oh horrors!” and we all laughed until we cried. That moment reminds me that even the most beautiful traditions can get a little messy—and often, those are the memories that live the longest.
When I think about Christmas traditions, my heart naturally shifts to the very first Christmas. Mary didn’t have a routine or a list of expectations. She had a calling. And in that calling, she found purpose.
Luke 2 tells us that Caesar Augustus called for a census, and Joseph and Mary traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem. She was nine months pregnant, with no car, no hotel, and no comfort. They ended up in a stable—and that is where Jesus entered the world.
It wasn’t perfect. It was holy. God came close in the middle of a mess.
And so, three simple words help us anchor our hearts each Christmas—if we allow them: Preferences, Priority, and Purpose.
We all have them: white lights or colored, real tree or artificial, Elf on the Shelf or absolutely not. Preferences aren’t the problem—until they begin to dictate our peace.
One year, we were so busy doing “all the Christmas things” that we skipped something important in our home: the birthday cake for Jesus and reading the Christmas story. We watched every movie, baked every cookie, and checked every box. It was only afterward that I realized our preferences had quietly replaced our purpose.
Colossians 3:2 says, “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” Earthly things aren’t wrong—they’re just not eternal.
Maybe this year something looks different. The kids can’t all come home. The budget is tight. The decorations aren’t perfect. That’s okay. Christmas does not collapse when a preference changes, because our peace was never meant to depend on circumstances.
Reflection: Where have my preferences begun to control my peace?
Preference shows what we enjoy; priority reveals what we treasure.
Jesus said in Matthew 6:21, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
That verse became deeply personal for me. Within fifteen months, I lost my uncle, my grandfather, and then my mom. Each holiday added another empty chair at the table. If you’ve walked that road—or are there now—you know: empty chairs speak loudly.
I found myself trying to recreate what used to be—taking the pictures Mom would have taken, cooking what she would cook, trying to recreate a season God had already completed.
One day, the Lord whispered, “You’re trying to carry what only I can carry.”
Priority means intentionally learning to treasure who is still here instead of mourning only who is gone. It means trusting God in the present tense, even when the present feels fragile.
Matthew 6:33 reminds us: “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”
Reflection: Where do I need to stop clinging to “what was” and start embracing “what is”?
Mary didn’t know the whole story, but she offered one word that changed everything: “Yes.”
Purpose isn’t about performance. It’s about presence.
John 1:14 says, “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” He didn’t visit—He dwelt. He lived here. He stepped into our world.
When expectations feel heavy or grief threatens your joy, remember: the purpose of Christmas is a Person—Jesus.
Preferences — hold them loosely.
Priority — set them rightly.
Purpose — live it daily.
Before the rush of Christmas morning, take three quiet minutes and read Luke 2. Whisper, “Jesus, You are here.”
Father, thank You for sending Jesus—not into perfection, but into our very real world. Help us hold our preferences lightly, order our priorities rightly, and find our purpose wholly in You. Fill our homes and hearts with Your peace and Your presence this Christmas. In Jesus’ name, Amen.