Tired of the Holiday Hustle?

The Holiday Hustle starts earlier every year. Before the last of the Halloween candy has been eaten, stores are piping in Christmas music and flashing “limited time only” sales. The commercials tell us that the magic of Christmas comes in a gift bag or a decorated box. We scroll through picture-perfect tablescapes on social media, and somewhere deep down we start to feel like maybe we’re not doing enough. Or maybe we’re doing it wrong. If you’ve had all you can take of the Holiday Hustle, listen in and learn a few tips on how to slow down, breathe easier, and actually enjoy your holidays.

Transcript

Episode 192 - Tired of the Holiday Hustle? 

I think the holidays are a little like fruitcake. Some folks absolutely love them, some politely pass, and some take one bite and wonder why they agreed to this in the first place. Now, I’ll admit, I’m not talking about the holidays themselves — I love Christmas — but I’m talking about the way we do the holidays these days. Somewhere along the line, “celebrating” turned into “surviving,” and if you’re anything like me, you’ve had years where you’ve looked up around mid-December and thought, “Wait… wasn’t this supposed to be joyful?”

The truth is, the hustle starts earlier every year. Before the last of the Halloween candy has been eaten, stores are piping in Christmas music and flashing “limited time only” sales. The commercials tell us that the magic of Christmas comes in a gift bag or a decorated box. We scroll through picture-perfect tablescapes on social media, and somewhere deep down we start to feel like maybe we’re not doing enough. Or maybe we’re doing it wrong.

And so we run. We run from one store to the next, filling our carts with the things we think might make everyone happy. We say yes to every party, every volunteer shift, every extra project. We try to make every tradition happen, even the ones no one in the family has cared about for years. By the time Christmas morning rolls around, we’ve traded peace and joy for exhaustion and maybe a little bit of resentment.

I still remember one year I decided that this was the year I was going to do “everything right.” Every decoration was going to be just so, every meal was going to look like a magazine photo, and every gift was going to be thoughtful and beautifully wrapped. And I have to tell you… by December 20th, I was so tired I could have cried. But I kept telling myself, “It’ll be worth it on Christmas morning.” But when Christmas morning came, I was too worn out to even enjoy it. I remember sitting in the living room surrounded by wrapping paper and half-empty coffee cups, thinking, “I missed it. The season came and went, and I missed it.”

It was that year I realized the holidays don’t have to be a hustle. We get to choose. I think sometimes we forget that. Just because everyone else seems to be racing around doesn’t mean we have to. In fact, slowing down might just be the best gift you give yourself — and everyone around you.

So, how do we actually do that? Well, I can tell you what’s helped me, and maybe it’ll give you some ideas.

First, I’ve learned to let go of that word perfect. Perfect is a moving target that never stays still long enough to reach it. Somewhere along the way, our culture decided that the holidays should look like a glossy magazine spread — every cookie identical, every decoration coordinated, every gift wrapped in crisp paper with curled ribbons. That’s fine for a photo shoot, but in real life? Real life has a little lopsided tree, the same ornaments we’ve had for years, and at least one batch of cookies that comes out burnt to a crisp or looking like a science experiment. And you know what? That’s where the memories are. Years from now, nobody’s going to remember those perfectly wrapped packages. But they’ll remember the way the kitchen smelled, and the way you laughed when you burned the first batch of cookies.

And you know what else? The people you invite into your home aren’t coming to be impressed — they’re coming to be welcomed. They’ll remember the warmth in your voice more than the centerpiece on your table. They’ll remember how they felt, not how perfect the house looked. I’ve been to “perfect” Christmas parties before — the kind where you’re afraid to put your glass down because the table looks like it belongs in a museum. And while they were lovely, I left feeling more like a visitor than a guest. Then I’ve been to other homes where the dishes were paper, there was a little flour on the counter from baking cookies, and the coffee was poured into mismatched mugs. And you know what? I left feeling full — not just from the food, but from the welcome.

The second thing I’ve done is cut down my holiday calendar. There’s this idea that you have to say yes to everything because “it’s Christmas.” But if you stretch yourself so thin that you’re frazzled and cranky, it’s not much of a gift to anyone. I’ve started asking myself before I commit to something: will this bring me joy or will it leave me drained? If it’s going to make me resent the season, I give myself permission to politely decline. It’s not selfish — it’s actually a kindness, to yourself and to your family.

Another change I’ve made is in gift-giving. I used to feel this pressure to find the “perfect” gift for everyone on my list. But then I realized — most of us don’t remember the gifts we get year to year. We remember moments. So, I’ve chosen to give gifts that create memories or meet a real need, instead of just filling a space under the tree. Sometimes that means something handmade. Sometimes it means an experience we can do together. And sometimes, it means paying attention and giving something that is needed, like food disguised as a chef’s basket. It’s amazing how much a few heartfelt gifts can mean.

And then, there’s the to-do list. You know the one — the mile-long list of things we think we “have” to do before December 25th. The baking, the decorating, the card-sending, the shopping, the wrapping, the visiting… I’m not saying any of those things are bad, but rather than mandatory, we should see them as optional. Yes, even the ones you’ve “always done.” Sometimes we need to give ourselves the grace to let a few things go. If you don’t bake ten kinds of cookies, Christmas will still come. If you send cards in January, they’ll still be appreciated. If you skip putting up lights outside this year, the world will keep spinning.

Now, I know some of you are thinking, “That all sounds great, but my family expects certain things.” I get it. Change can be tricky when you’re dealing with traditions that other people hold dear. My advice is to be gentle, both with them and with yourself. You don’t have to overhaul the whole season in one year. Start small. Drop one or two things that drain you the most and replace them with something that brings you peace. You might be surprised how quickly others adjust — and even appreciate — the shift.

For me, the biggest shift has been learning to pause. To make space in the season for quiet moments. A cup of hot chocolate by the tree before anyone else wakes up. A slow walk through the neighborhood to look at lights. Reading the Christmas story from Luke, not as something to check off the list, but as a chance to sit in the wonder of it. When you stop rushing, you start noticing — the smell of cinnamon, the sound of laughter, the way candlelight flickers in a window. Those are the little threads that weave together a meaningful holiday.

And maybe, just maybe, we can remember what this season is really about. Because if we strip away all the extras — the shopping, the decorating, the baking — at the heart of Christmas is something beautifully simple. God loved us enough to send His Son into the world. Not with fanfare, not in a palace, but in the quiet of a stable, under a sky full of stars. The first Christmas wasn’t loud or rushed or busy. It was still. It was holy. And maybe, in our own way, we can bring some of that stillness back.

I’m not saying you have to cancel every party and toss out your tinsel. I’m just saying you don’t have to keep running yourself ragged to make Christmas “happen.” It will come, whether the table is set with China or paper plates. It will come, whether your gifts are wrapped in gold foil or brown paper. And it will come, no matter how many or how few things you cross off your list.

So, if you’re tired of the holiday hustle, here’s your permission slip to slow down. To trade in perfect for meaningful. To let go of “should” and hold onto “want.” To be present, not just productive. Because at the end of the day, the people you love would rather have you — rested, joyful, and present — than all the “extras” you can pile into a month.

And maybe next year, when the hustle starts to creep in again, you’ll remember how it felt to breathe a little deeper this December. And you’ll choose it again. And again. Until the hustle isn’t even part of your Christmas anymore.