This year, Christmas will unfold very differently.


Until now, it was always a rush.
You had to buy the gifts,
cook for three days,
visit relatives or welcome them into your home.
Familiar?
The result: exhaustion, stress, frustration.

This year, Christmas will be a little different from what I planned.
I wanted to spend the holiday alone.
Well, that wish came true.
My mind didn’t exactly welcome the idea — it immediately offered Plan A, B, and C, insisting on a shared celebration.
But my heart longed for solitude.
Its wish was granted.

I’ve been sick for five days now. I’m staying home.
That’s what happens when you don’t express your wishes clearly, right?
Knowing God, I’m not even surprised. He’s brilliant at adding twists to the story.

One thing is certain: there is always a reason behind His plan.
Why this way and not another?
That’s a question without meaning.
So I do my part.

I’ve surrendered to the situation. I don’t resist.
I just let it be. I’ve accepted it. I feel it. Persistent little thing.
My mind creates theories and solutions to get rid of it quickly — it always needs a reason, a justification.

We don’t even notice how often we neglect our bodies just to obey the mind.
(Going to work sick, cooking for the family, cleaning the house…)

Meanwhile, the body becomes exhausted, the soul tired, and we wander blindly, separated from ourselves.
Because in the great need to please everyone, we forget to sense our own being.

You — who are alone,
you — who lie ill or weary,
you — who rush to buy everything,
you — who feel out of place in your family,
you — who spend all your time in the kitchen,
you — whose family has fallen apart:

Stop. Feel what your body desires.
Listen to what your soul whispers.
So you can feel again the presence of Spirit.

So that this Christmas unfolds differently:
If the Silent Night is truly silent,
the greatest gift will not be found under the tree,
nor given by someone else.
You’ll find it within yourself.
When you open your heart to your own surprise.

This one is yours.
Thank God.
Thank the birth of a child.
Come, silent night.