Looking to the New Year: Embracing a week of nothingness
That magical week between Christmas and New Years is always one of my favorite times of the whole year.
First, it’s filled with rest.
The busy Advent season rolls into Christmas morning. We enjoy a small and casual church service filled with jolly “Merry Christmas!”-es and “Joy to the World” sung at the top of everyone’s voice, whether they can sing or not. It’s a joyful noise kind of unabashed worship that is rare and wonderful. There’s coffee and Ohio-style coffee cake in long sugary strips. Then we come home. And we sit. We open presents. Sometimes friends and family visit or we visit them. There aren’t any rules or rushing. It’s a week with something we wish most of life held just a little more often…no expectations.
Second, it’s filled with togetherness.
People come and gather around our table or we gather round theirs. There’s munching and new lego sets that require help. There’s iceskating and games and too many baked goods. There’s a book and the last of the Christmas movies that never got watched. There’s wine and snuggles, fluffy blankets, and car trips. Sometimes, there’s nothingness and it feels like a slice of grace and restoration from the Savior Himself.
Third, it’s filled with what’s to come.
It’s that quiet time of contemplation that exists before planning. It’s not hard core we-must-get-stuff-done planning, but it’s that place before it. That time and space where we know we are going to plan some stuff, new stuff needs to happen, life needs to move forward, but nothing needs to be done yet. We get to just think about things without the pressure to act. We get to hope and dream about what’s to come. A little voice says action is coming and it’s coming soon. It feels fresh and filled with energy, but is not pressing. It’s the nudge of New Year’s, not the shove from a life left undone.
I pray you get to enjoy this special week. The space in-between. Jesus lived a span of 33 years between His birth in that stable and His death and resurrection on Easter Morn. The space in-between is purposeful and worthy of a breathe of thanksgiving. Let fill this time of not yet with more and more of Him. Always more of Him.