There is something about early December that feels like standing in a doorway.
Not quite inside the season, not quite outside of it either.
Just… holding it all.

The longing.
The fatigue.
The hope.
The messiness of real life.
The quiet wish that this year might feel different—lighter, clearer, more settled somehow.

Every Advent I tell myself, “This time, I’ll create space. I’ll prepare my heart. I’ll slow down enough to feel something holy.”
And then life happens.
The calendar fills.
The kids need things.
The inbox explodes.
My spirit starts to shrink under the weight of it all.

Maybe you know this feeling too—when your heart feels both too full and somehow not full enough.

And yet…
Advent keeps whispering the same truth:

You don’t have to be ready.
You just have to make room.

Not perfect room.
Not uninterrupted room.
Not curated, Instagram-ready, candlelit room.

Just enough room for God to slip in through the cracks.

This morning, I kept thinking about the phrase:
“Life doesn’t wait for ideal conditions.”
Neither does God.

Hope shows up in the places we didn’t prepare.
Joy appears in moments we didn’t schedule.
Grace finds its way through the parts of us we were convinced were too messy to be holy.

Advent is not a performance.
It’s a posture.

A leaning-toward.
A softening.
A willingness to breathe again.

So if today feels crowded—
if your emotions are loud, or your energy is thin, or your spirit feels like a room you haven’t cleaned in weeks—
hear this:

God is not waiting for you to organize your interior life before He arrives.
God is already here.
Already near.
Already making room inside you for hope to grow.

Maybe all we need is one deep breath.
One unclenched moment.
One small yes to the possibility that Christ is still coming—
to us,
for us,
with us.

Even now.
Especially now.

✨ May you find a little room in your day for grace to settle in.
May you be surprised by the joy that rises quietly.
May Advent hold you gently today.

Amen.