Slowing Down Advent: Why We Must Draw a Line in the Snow

As Advent rolls around, I think of snow falling, a crackling fire, and a cozy blanket from where I rest thankful for each of those. I envision sipping hot chocolate with my Bible in hand while my daughter colors a Jesse tree ornament.

Then reality hits:  Shopping lists, crowds, one hectic event after another, more to buy, more people I forgot to buy for—and I can’t imagine the to-do’s if I was the cook at our house!

That cozy blanket slides off the couch and lays forgotten on the floor for days.  My daughter gets left at home while I do the running. And before I know it, the season is over with no rejuvenation. No meaning. Just more to recoup from.

Not this year. This time I’m drawing the line early, with love and a stubborn hope. I’m guarding our family time the way Mary protected space for what matters most. Here’s how we’re starting:

• I’ve already sent gentle “please, don’t buy for me” texts. Yes, it was hard–but polite. And thankful. My first ministry is my family. They deserve my attention—and sanity—at the holidays. And God deserves my devotion. Not scraps of my distracted soul.

• I’ve printed my free Jesse tree scripture ornaments—one to color for each day of Advent from Ann Voskamp. I’m even eyeing her Night Before Advent resource to launch the season with a slow, candlelit evening at home, just us and the Story. And maybe a Christmas light scavenger drive to wrap it up.

• I’ve inked two sacred days into the calendar in bright red: one for trimming the tree together and one decisive shopping day—most of which I plan to finish from the couch, phone in hand, blanket reclaimed. A third day will be spent sledding through freshly fallen snow.

• And tonight, on the way to the horse barn, we’ll sketch out our simple holiday menu—by flashlight if we have to.

Already, just mapping these small intentions, a weight has lifted—like the first deep breath after surfacing from a crowded room. The hustle hasn’t vanished, but it’s been given boundaries. And in the space we’ve carved, I can almost hear the snow falling again, soft and deliberate, covering everything with promise.

So, go ahead–protect the sacred space. You have the freedom. And it feels wonderful.

I also plan to spend more time in my prayer journal over the holidays–with a mug of hot tea and a crackling fire (on YouTube, if need be). If you or your kids would like to craft one of your own, check out our post!

Enjoy! And remember, fellow Pioneer: No matter what territory you’re navigating, keep cultivating their seeds of faith. Simply. For true legacy.

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