Christmas Eve didn’t arrive quietly for me this year.
It arrived with piles of gifts waiting to be wrapped, last-minute grocery store runs, bags being packed, outfits being double-checked, and that familiar pressure whispering that everything needed to be just right before we hit the road.
I could feel the stress building as we prepared to head to my parents’ house for the night. There were a million little details to remember, and my mind kept racing ahead instead of resting in the moment.
And then something small but freeing happened.
I decided not to wrap a few of the gifts.
I placed the boxes under the tree just as they were.
Because in that moment, I realized I was chasing an expectation God never asked me to meet.
Christmas Eve is not about polished wrapping paper or perfectly executed plans. It’s about presence. It’s about the Savior who came without fanfare, without comfort, without control, and changed everything.
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”
Luke 2:11 (ESV)
Also this evening, something else unexpected happened. Thanks to my brother stepping in to help with the kids, my husband and I were able to go out to dinner together. Just the two of us. No rushing. No noise. No checklist.
We sat next each other, talked, laughed, and soaked in the reality that these quiet moments are part of what makes this season holy.
Family doesn’t need perfection to be meaningful.
Marriage doesn’t need grand gestures to be strong.
And Christmas doesn’t need pressure to be sacred.
This Christmas Eve reminded me that Jesus came to a messy world, not a perfectly prepared one. He came to hearts that were tired, overwhelmed, and longing for hope.
If you are ending this day feeling stretched thin, behind schedule, or emotionally worn down, you are exactly the kind of heart Jesus came for.
Let go of what doesn’t matter tonight.
Hold close what does.
May your Christmas Eve be filled not with pressure, but with peace.
Not with performance, but with presence.
And not with perfection, but with the quiet joy of knowing He is here.
🤍