“All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth”, that’s the song my dad chanted with joy walking me to see Santa, the one time he took me for this seasonal visit.

Fifty some years later, I have all my teeth and all I want for Christmas is to s  l  o  w    d  o  w   n. 

This translates into so many gifts for me. If I slow down then will I be able to avoid the mad chaos created by shoulds, and what if, and what will they say if I don’t? I want to slow down and listen to the birds in the morning, the candle flickering at night. During the day and all day long, I simply want to hear the sound of my own breath.

 

All I need is right in front of me.

 

When I was in first grade my dad took me to see Santa. I had recently lost my front tooth. Is that right? Do we lose teeth at age 6? Regardless of the age, the grade, all I remember is my dad, telling me, “Ask Santa for your front teeth.” I see us both now laughing. This was a rare moment. Humor. A happy time with my dad. He had severe depression and one mental illness diagnosis after another, but the handful of joyful moments I have with him stored away in my heart are precious, remembered for good. My gold. 

 

My dad ended up dying at the age of 75. Young. Our oldest child, eight months old. If he were alive today he would be 97. I have lived a lifetime without him but he is with me, holding my hand, comforting me with his sweet memories when I open a book or drink a cup of coffee and especially when I eat a slice of pie.

 

It’s these moments I don’t want to miss. I want my now young adult children to look back when I am gone from this world and to remember me holding their hand, telling them a joke, listening to their heart ache, and creating memories that linger in their hearts and minds with a softness that can never be mistaken.

 

I want to swipe away the adds that come up on my social media feed and remember that the pressure to buy the bobble, shiny object or unnecessary trinket is not going to be the source of joy. Better yet, I will diminish my scrolling and pick up a book instead or get out the baking ingredients. Two joys I want to slow down and make more time for as I embrace the parts of the season that I adore.

 

The holidays are supposed to be about being present for one another. This time of year is about wintering, nesting, hunkering down. Sipping slowly. Withdrawing the curtains but leaving them open just enough for a bit of the light to get in.

 

I treasure the sounds of the Christmas season, the pine tree smells, and hot chocolate, lick lipping blips of time. I will miss these moments that mean so much to me if I focus on the chaos, expectations and spend all of my energy on what I can’t control. 

I invite you to Pause. I will do the same. In this Pause I recognize, I am tired. A midday snooze is calling my name.

 

Who am I to not keep going to push out another article?

 

I am the woman who is now back from a fifteen-minute nap. I’m back to this article after pausing. How often do you listen not only to your breath, the birds, the flickering of candlelight but to the nudges to slow down and rest awhile?

 

I was tempted to fight on, finish this article I started, but then I decided if I want to write about slowing down and urge others to do so, then I must do just that very thing. Slow Down.

 

Fresh from rest, as the kettle brews for my late afternoon cup of tea I invite us both, you and me, to set aside the list, agenda, tasks and recognize the only way to slow down the hamster wheel is to step off of it.

 

Whatever it is you want for Christmas this year, my hope and wish for you is that you receive the treasured moments like gold. Unwrapping them slowly. And I just bet after you slow down and open your eyes you will discover you have just what you need, right in front of you.

Cheers, Jenny