As a strong believer that Christmas music, decor, and general merriment shouldn't happen until after Thanksgiving, I can officially say, "Merry Christmas!" This week, I’m going to attempt to catch up to those of you who have been celebrating since August by listening to all the carols, hanging stockings, buying gifts, and perusing holiday recipes (okay, that last one I do year-round).

I love this season—but that's not always been the case. Many years, it's been filled with grief. I vividly remember the year that Advent for me didn't mean waiting for the birth of a Savior. It meant waiting for my mom to die. Doctors told her months before that she probably wouldn't make it until Christmas, and that year, I dreaded the holiday more than ever. It felt like her death sentence.

I wanted to come to you today having written some insightful new post for Advent. I wanted to come with reflections on Isaiah or Luke or Matthew and bring a word of comfort and joy in the season.

But the truth is...I’m tired. Not just physically tired but soul tired. This year has probably been the most growing and stretching of my life spiritually and emotionally. For that I’m grateful—but because of that, I’m also worn out. I planned to take the week between Christmas and New Year’s off from doing any blogging or social media, and I’m realizing I need to start that break earlier than originally planned. I don’t want to be part of a weary world that’s too busy to rejoice.