Contentment In The Chaos

Okay, so I have a confession. And I don't know how it'll sit with you, but I value honesty and openness and...well, here it is: I have a serious love-hate relationship with the end-of-year holiday season.

And I know, I literally market myself and my writing on the power of perspective. Every week I'm here, talking about choosing gratitude, finding contentment, and learning to slow down in order to appreciate life's unexpected blessings. No degree necessary to share the lessons I've learned, living life in what often feels like the Boarding School of Hard Knocks—so I give glimpses into my process, hoping that what I've learned the hard way might help someone else skip a course in Remedial Struggle.

I offer glimpses into my busy mom schedule. I share stories of faith and motherhood, and through the waves of emotional exhaustion and ADHD overwhelm, I hope my longstanding practice of mindful gratitude helps someone somewhere to make it through with a little more hope.

Honestly, I should probably be one of those annoyingly Hallmark Christmas-lovers. You know the ones. They have their tree up by Halloween, and they don't care about Black Friday sales because they finished their holiday gift shopping in July. They smell like pumpkin spice hot chocolate, and they somehow manage to host every holiday dinner without a hitch.

I am not those people. Not even close. Because the fact is, the holiday season does not slow life down; instead, it takes your regular daily life and cranks it up to Nascar-level insanity, complete with a rotation of parties, events, gatherings, and gift exchanges that almost literally feel like one dizzying left turn after another. Kids' schools take a break, but parents' responsibilities don't. The house, the chores, the doctors, the church stuff, the work things, the hobbies...they all remain the same, but now they're buried under a whirlwind of decorations you're afraid to move because you can't remember where you hid the Christmas presents. It's always a mess, and every year I have to work harder to hold gratitude for what I have—while drowning in days that don't go as planned.

I have to remind myself sometimes that those overwhelmingly crazy days are still beautiful, with their sparkly lights and perfectly imperfect trees. That the gifts are fun and the parties are a chance to catch up with people I missed when life got too busy. That the work of managing busy weeks looks different with a thankful mindset, because the alternative is loneliness.

And this week, as we edge deeper into the 2025 holiday season, I got a timely reminder of why contentment is such a lifeline for me—because true contentment isn't always waiting peacefully in the quiet. Sometimes you have to choose it purposely despite the noise.

Friday morning, I woke with a groan and turned the alarm off, flinching as my phone's virtual assistant began her daily recital of the annoying information that drags me from sleep. The date, time, weather. Calendar events, appointments. News headlines. I stumbled out of bed, woke my youngest daughter for school, and brushed my teeth in dismay.

The week started with hope. I was going to get ahead of schedule, get fully prepared for another house-sitting weekend, and enjoy the chance to relax...but my youngest daughter had three doctor's appointments, we had three separate church group meetings, schoolwork, housework, scheduling conflicts, and the complication of me missing my medications for three days. The ones for hypersomnia.

Thursday's tasks weren't finished, Friday's list was already longer than usual, I had only been asleep for four hours, and there was no possible way to make the day go the way I needed it to.

By 8:30 that morning, I had dropped my daughter off at school and checked exactly zero items off my list. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. My chest was tight. I was edging toward a full-blown anxiety attack. My gas light came on halfway through Hope Darst's "In The Might Name," and I rolled my eyes as I pulled into the gas station. But I turned the radio up—and by 9, I had my mojo back. I had adjusted my mental plans. My gas tank was full, my belly stopped churning, and I was ready for a morning spent with my sweet spiritual Mama, whose house I'm currently sitting in.

We've found a compromise, she and I. I'd never let her pay me for house-sitting, so in exchange for the arduous tasks of petting her dog, feeding her cat, and sleeping in her unspeakably comfortable bed, she insists that we begin every house-sitting staycation with a grocery shop. We hang out, choose gluten-free goodies, usually get some lunch, and then separate to pack and prep. Except this time, the getaway she's gone for is a family wedding, and she also had a hair appointment. Which took almost four hours, because apparently this time, her hairstylist was that sloth guy from Zootopia.

By the time I dropped her back at her house, picked up my youngest from school, drove home, cleaned the kitchen, and made dinner...I was wiped. I had a kinked neck, stiff hips, and brain fog as thick as molasses. And that to-do list from earlier? Still mocking me with its neat little line of unchecked boxes, each one singing their own version of "No Rest For The Weary" like they were auditioning for The Voice.

But here's the funny thing about intentional gratitude practice: once it becomes a habit, it automates itself.

It doesn't erase exhaustion or fatigue, and it doesn't silence the constant hum in your mind...but it reads the truth of your days and highlights opportunities for joy.

I spent the morning well, talking about nothing and everything with a friend and mentor I love dearly, every moment a precious pebble in my life's stream of memories. Brunch was fabulous, and by the end of the meal I couldn't decide which was more delicious: the gluten free burger chosen from an actual gluten-free menu, or her delight in watching me discover a new place to eat safely. We raced from there to her hair appointment, and four hours later, her slow-motion hairstyle was fabulous.

We laughed at the way the morning had gone and, mindful of my schedule, she apologized for everything taking longer than we'd planned. She thanked me for driving her to the appointment, for waiting to take her home. And in those moments, as we talked on the way back to her house, a messy morning morphed into exactly what we hadn't known we needed.

The boxes may have gone unchecked, but the day was full. Full of laughter. Full of connection. And in the middle of the chaos, for just a little while, nothing mattered but presence.

Getting ready for bed that night, my body was sore. My mind was tired. But my eyes sparkled in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, filled with echoes of the morning's laughter. Not because everything went smoothly as planned, but because contentment is a choice—and I chose to see what had been done, rather than what hadn’t.

*****

Trusting God with my day isn't always easy, and finding joy in the little things is always more challenging when tasks pile up the way they did this week—but contentment doesn't wait for calm, and gratitude doesn't grow on schedule. We have to seek them out, right there in the chaos, and collect the moments that matter.

And I know that's hard sometimes. We're trained to discount the accomplishments and obsess over the failures. To count those checkboxes, complete those endless chores, and trudge through each day like drones with perma-charged lithium batteries.

But why? To achieve someone else's definition of success? To keep up with people who are so busy racing, they don't even see us beside them? To stay on top?

Do yourself a favor and turn that to-do list over. Take time to breathe. Let your face remember what it feels like to smile. And write yourself a little Ta-Da! list instead. Acknowledge your progress and savor those moments. List the blessings in your life, add some checkboxes, and fill 'em all in. They're your proof that even in chaos, life is a gift.

You don't have to stay on top. You just need to...

We all get busy, and I know how easy it can be to forget to check in, especially with the holiday fanfare, which is why I've built a weekly update you can keep up with. No spam, no pressure, no cost—just a little food for thought, delivered straight to your inbox every Monday.