The Great Permission
An invitation to winter
December.
The last month of the year.
The sky darkens early.
The air turns crisp.
The world rushes toward the finish line, trying to squeeze a year’s worth of living into thirty-one days.
But I am choosing a different speed.
I am choosing resting, celebration, and reflection.
Rest
“Sometimes you need to pause. The world will wait.”
This December, I allow myself to rest—not because I have earned it, but because I need and want it.
And earning it has nothing to do with living.
I allow rest to nurture me.
I allow myself to follow the rhythm of nature.
Just as the trees shed their leaves and the soft-furred beings curl into the dark, I respect my own wintering.
I used to think rest was the absence of doing.
Now I know: rest is the presence of healing.
Celebrate
“Life should not only be lived, it should be celebrated.”
I allow myself to celebrate not just the results, but the journey itself.
I celebrate today.
I celebrate this moment with a tender baby in my arms, feeling the weight and warmth of her life against mine.
I celebrate the messy, imperfect process of figuring life out.
I take a pause.
I breathe everything in—the joy, the exhaustion, the wonder.
And I make the only prayer that matters:
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Reflect
“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
This year, I reflect differently.
Not counting my trophies, not listing the undones.
Instead, I allow myself the time and space to search deep within.
I allow myself to look into my own heart with curiosity and without judgment.
I am trying to simply see me.
I look at myself in the mirror, as if for the first time.
I am 37 years old.
I see the grey hair starting to thread through the black.
I see eyes that carry weight and kindness, and the faint shadows left behind by sleepless nights.
I see the one-sided dimple that gives way for playfulness—a reminder that things don’t need to be symmetrical to be beautiful.
I see lines on my skin that are deeper now than in my youth, like souvenirs from life.
I see a strong and healthy body that just brought a beautiful life into the world.
And inside, a tender heart, a sharp mind, and a bright soul.
I take a deep breath in. And I say,
“Hey you.
Thank you for this beautiful life.
Thank you for being courageous and kind.
Thank you for being exactly who you are.”
Softness is my true strength.
I like to take things slow.
I love to reflect deeply and feel deeply.
I am learning to live and to love.
I am learning to look at myself without the labels I wear so tightly.
I am not just “Mother.” “Wife.” “Businesswoman.” “Writer.”
The essence of me is something quieter.
Something purer.
Free.
Unconstrained.
And this December, that is who I want to meet.
Not the woman other people perceive, but the one I see.
Not the woman who does, but the woman who simply is.
Shall we rest, celebrate and reflect?
A Note of Gratitude
To everyone who reads and feels with me, I want to offer my deepest gratitude.
Life feels less alone with you in it.
Life feels so much more wonderful with you in it.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
If this touches your heart, share it, or leave a comment.
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