There’s a quiet magic in these days leading up to Christmas, in the ordinary moments that feel anything but. I find myself pausing over the little things—my children’s crooked letters on a freshly completed worksheet, the way a first attempt at a poem or a drawing comes out uneven but full of heart, the way their flour-covered hands leave trails across the kitchen as we bake together. These moments, small and imperfect, are where delight lives.
I love watching them learn, not because they are perfect, but because they are themselves—messy, curious, eager, and mid-process. Their faltering attempts, their misspellings, their creative quirks—all of it tells me who they are in a way nothing else could. A note left on my desk, a picture drawn with oversized eyes and hearts, a lopsided cookie carefully frosted—these are expressions of them, and they are irreplaceable.
It reminds me of how our Lord treasures each of us. We are not loved for being flawless or for matching someone else’s standard. We are loved for the uniqueness of our hearts, the sincerity of our effort, the way our presence colors the world in ways no one else can. If my youngest ever worried that his drawings weren’t “as good” as his brothers’, I would assure him that no one else could give me the joy I feel in seeing his own creations. The sweetness of these small, imperfect moments is in their originality, in the fact that they are his.
These days—filled with homeschooling lessons, the laughter and mess of baking, and hours spent simply being together—are more than routines. They are a mirror of the love and delight God takes in each of us. There is no substitute for a single person, no replication of the joy one child brings. And the same is true for us. Each of us, with all our quirks and stumbles, has a singular, unrepeatable place in the world and in the hearts of those who love us.
This season, I choose to slow down and savor it all: the lessons, the flour on the counter, the scribbled notes and drawings, the laughter and arguments, the quiet pauses by the Christmas lights. Each imperfect, fleeting moment is a gift, and being present for it all is a joy that lasts far beyond the holiday.
B ❤️
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