Solstice, ‘Self-Care,’ and What You Really Need This Holiday

I want to write so many things this Saturday before Christmas, this darkest day of the year before the dawn. But I am riding co-pilot in a minivan on I-81, and it’s only a matter of minutes before one of the three kids asks me for another snack. So here are two simple thoughts as we head into this week:

On Solstice

This evening is the winter solstice, the point at which the sun is the farthest from us. The night is the longest it will get. Writers love this sort of symbolism, especially when it falls before the dawning hope that we celebrate at Christmas. The last few years, I’ve found such solace in the idea that even creation observes seasons of stillness. Seasons of seemingly unproductive rest. Seasons of darkness and grief and longing for light.

I love how Caroline Cobb’s new book, Advent for Exiles, invites us to sit in the darkness of exile for a while before running headlong into the light.

“When Adam and Eve bellow, ‘We can’t go back—there is no way,’ the voice of Jesus shouts, ‘I am the Way!’ When we are lost in the thick darkness of exile, the Word of God speaks: ‘Let there be light!’”

What would it look like to sit in the darkness for a while this evening? To not let the modern convenience of light drive out this annual reminder: We are in desperate need of spiritual light. We are the people “dwelling in darkness,” as Matthew 4:16 says before proclaiming the good news that dawns in the dark: “And for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned.”

On Self-Care

In my fervor to prepare for our weeklong trip to see family this week, I had all sorts of grand plans. I was going to paint my toenails, maybe even go get my nails done so the polish would last more than a couple of days. But that version of me quickly gave way to the practicalities of packing up a family of five. I did not get a chance, let’s just say, to practice the sort of “self-care” that might make me ready for my stint as snack-hander-outer during a daylong car trip.

Perhaps you too are feeling a little wrung out by the preparations that precede the holidays. I know the internet is rife with memes about overworked women and moms this time of year, implying that what we need most is a break. Maybe even a day at the spa.

I don’t know about you, but this sort of mindset doesn’t tend to breed the best in me. The idea that I “need” some self-care to be the best version of myself instead tends to breed bitterness when it doesn’t come. Even when it does come, it never seems to be enough.

But here’s a question that’s helped me reframe my “needs” now that I’ve been a mom for a decade (and learned the just-out-of-reach feeling of finding the right amount of “self-care”): What would it look like to seek and receive Christ’s care instead of self-care?

What would it look like this Christmas to rest amid the chaos of crumpled gift wrap and ungrateful recipients and aching feet from too many hours in the kitchen? To remember that the greatest work that truly needs to be done has already been done? The baby that came in a manger did not come to bring “magic” to your dreary December months (a magic that — surprise! — moms have to “make happen”).

No, Christ came to lighten the utter darkness of reality, to bring true rest to all who trust in the work that he alone can and did do.

It is not the sort of rest that ends when the masseuse says “Your time is up,” and you feel like you’ve only just started to relax. It is not the sort of rest that ends when the fingernail paint chips buckling your seatbelt on the way home from the salon. It is not even the kind of rest that comes when the sick kids finally fall asleep on your chest and you feel like you might finally get to rest your eyes as well.

Christ’s is a rest that can be received when the rest this world offers has fallen short. It’s a rest that remains the day after Christmas, when the work of preparing for another year feels like it’s breathing down your neck. It’s a rest that remains even when it seems, for a moment, you’ve found a little corner of it here on earth.

May you and I find such rich rest in Him this season, regardless of what it has in store.

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Also worth sharing

The Gospel Coalition recognized my book, We Shall All Be Changed: How Facing Death with Loved Ones Transforms Us, as the best book written by a first-time author in 2024. This has been a huge honor and I pray it continues to help the book find those who may need it most. (The book is only $10.99 on Amazon right now if you want to have extra copies on hand for those facing or processing loss this holiday season.)

Another fun aspect of the award has been exchanging books with Ashley Lande, whose fascinating memoir, The Thing That Would Make Everything Okay Forever, which won an award of distinction in the same category from TGC and was also recognized by Christianity Today’s book awards. There are far too few Christian memoirs like this one, which tells the story of how Lande went from the false highs offered by psychedelic drugs to the true hope offered in Christ. It has been a joy to wade into each other’s stories and to exchange notes as we do. It’s a treasure to see how Christ pursued her in her life and to feel it resonate with how He’s pursued me in mine. Also, a fun fact: Ashley lives about 20 minutes from where I grew up in Kansas! If you’re looking for an engrossing holiday read, get her book!

Cheering for you this Christmas. Light has come.