Christmas last year was the hardest Christmas of my life.
Fresh off a separation from my husband, the season felt forced from the start. I knew things wouldn’t feel the same, but knowing that didn’t stop me from trying. I decorated the house. I baked cookies. I played Christmas music and smiled through the tears, hoping that if I pretended long enough, joy might eventually catch up with me.
It didn’t.
“Fake it until you make it” failed spectacularly. And I certainly didn’t fool my kids.
With Christmas only days away, we made a decision that felt both drastic and necessary, we left. The kids and I packed our bags and escaped to a quiet condo overlooking a peaceful lake. Staying home felt unbearable, like staring straight at everything we had lost.
But pain has a way of traveling with you.
The separation alone would have been enough, but it wasn’t the only weight I was carrying. I was emotionally raw from a job that drained me, from a constant sense that I was failing my children, and from the exhausting effort of trying to keep everyone around me okay.
I think divorce does that to you.
There’s an unspoken pressure to become everything to everyone—to prove you’re still good, still capable, still whole. You want to care for everyone affected by the split. Not just support your children, but somehow heal them. And the harder I tried to do that, the worse I felt.
By the time January 1st arrived, I was empty.
That morning, in a condo far from home, I pulled a blank journal from my suitcase and stepped out onto the balcony while the world was still quiet. I asked God for a word for the new year. I didn’t ask casually. I begged. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and afraid. Everything in my life felt like it was spinning out of control, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
What follows are the words I wrote down that morning.
I’ve read them hundreds of times since. Every time, they steady me. They gently but firmly bring my focus back to where it belongs. Maybe they’ll speak to you, too.
January 1
Everything in life has its place.
You are trying to function in roles and relationships that are out of place.
With work, focus only on the tasks assigned to you. Let the responsibilities meant for others remain with them.
With relationships, you are called to offer guidance and wisdom, not to mend deep wounds or fix what is broken. Only I can do that, God.
You are trying to do everything. You cannot be everything to everyone. I did not design you for this. You must accept your limitations, or you will drown beneath a sea of expectations.
Your immediate family is your priority.
When you accept your limitations and take your rightful place, the other pieces will fall together as they are meant to.
Turn things over. Trust others to do their part. Most importantly, trust Me to do Mine.
Here, you will find freedom.
Welcome to your new chapter. I am excited to show it to you and walk through it with you. This season will bring some of the greatest growth, and the greatest peace, of your life.
Walk with Me.
Love,
God
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