Earlier This Year

Lately, a quiet sadness has settled over me, wrapping around my days like one of those weighted vests you wear when you’re at the dentist right before an X-ray. It isn’t just my own struggles that press on my heart; I find myself carrying my husband’s and children’s worries, too—their anxious thoughts I catch between the lines of text messages and phone calls. The weight grows heavier as I pray for my friends and family, hoping my whispered words will somehow ease their burdens. Some mornings, even the sunlight feels distant and thin, and each task takes a little more effort than usual.

Even though I pray, immerse myself in reading the Bible, and try to hold tight to God’s promises, I realize sometimes I need a little extra sparkle to lift my spirits. With Christmas still forty-six days away, I couldn’t resist breaking the unspoken rule—I turned on the Christmas music, letting those nostalgic tunes fill our home and soften the edges of my mood. Soon, the family room was swept up in the whimsical worlds of Christmas romcoms, their cheesy charm making me laugh out loud and, for a moment, forget the heaviness I carried. Between movies, I scrolled through local charities, imagining the smiles we could help bring to others this season, and nudged my kids to start dreaming up their Christmas wish lists.

I know Thanksgiving hasn’t even arrived yet, and starting the Christmas celebration early isn’t exactly the norm. But that’s part of what makes it special for us—it’s a way to pour out gratitude for the season, and for the joy of celebrating Jesus’ birth. After all, people often celebrate friends’ and family members’ birthdays early. Why not do the same for Jesus? If it brings our hearts closer and fills our home with hope, then why wait?

All this is to say: I don’t have to live by anyone else’s schedule or expectations. This year, I’m choosing to create my own timeline for joy. In a week or so, boxes of ornaments and tangled strands of twinkle lights will emerge from the basement, and our family room will hum with familiar, happy chaos. As we pull out the stockings for the mantle and drape decorations around the house, we will unwrap not just ornaments, but years of memories—each one telling a story, sparking laughter, or drawing a wistful tear. The kitchen, for now, stays dressed in Thanksgiving’s finest—pumpkins, autumn leaves, and the promise of a yummy Thanksgiving feast—while the rest of our home will begin to shimmer with Christmas magic, glowing with anticipation, warmth, and togetherness.

I’m choosing to create my own joy, on my own terms. I don’t need to follow someone else’s rules for happiness—and you don’t either. We all have the power to shape our moments and invent traditions that make us feel alive, whether it’s sipping cocoa in July or dancing to Christmas music. The beauty of joy is that it doesn’t ask for permission; it simply waits for us to notice and embrace it.

So as the twinkle lights glow and the familiar notes of holiday songs fill our home a little earlier than usual, I’m reminded that genuine joy is always worth seeking—no matter what the calendar says. Embrace what makes your heart lighter and your days brighter. Do what brings you true joy and happiness.