A Christmas Wishlist for the Sacred Middle

Health, Faith, Parenting, and Life — in the language of Disney wonder, Biblical hope, and ADHD‑parenting reality

messy holy

Every December, I feel the tug-of-war between who I am and who I imagine I “should” be by Christmas morning. The polished version of me, the one who remembers the Advent readings, keeps the house tidy, hydrates like a responsible adult, and never loses the water bottle, is always just a few steps ahead, waving like a Disney princess singing on a balcony.

But the real me?
He’s somewhere between the shepherds who showed up unprepared and the disciples who forgot the bread.
And honestly, that’s where the magic usually happens.

So this year, instead of resolutions or reinventions, I’m writing a Christmas wishlist. Not for things but for the kind of life I’m trying to grow into. A life that feels like the sacred middle: messy, holy, hopeful, and a little bit sparkly.

1. Health: A Body That Believes in Me

I want a body that doesn’t treat me like a side quest.

A body that wakes up with sunrise energy instead of plot‑twist exhaustion.
A nervous system that unclenches without requiring a three‑episode buffer.
Movement that feels like play, not penance.
Rest that feels allowed, even when I didn’t “earn” it.
Hydration that doesn’t require a boss battle.
Margin — the holy kind — where God whispers, “You are dust, beloved dust.”

I don’t need perfection.
I just want partnership with the body I’ve been given.

2. Faith: A Heart That Hears the Quiet

Faith, for me, has always lived in the in‑between spaces such as the carpool lane, the laundry pile, the half-finished prayer whispered while reheating coffee for the third time.

This Christmas, I’m wishing for:

• Wonder like Mary, who treasured things she didn’t fully understand

• Courage like Joshua, who stepped into the river before it parted

• Joy like the shepherds, who ran without rehearsing their lines

• A renewed mind — even if it’s the version with 47 tabs open

• A faith that feels like home, not homework

• A star to follow, even if it’s faint, even if I’m late, even if I wander

I don’t need certainty.
I just want presence… the kind that finds you in the middle of your real life.

3. Parenting: Magic in the Mess

Parenting with ADHD is basically improv with snacks.
You’re always one step behind, one meltdown away, and one silly moment from absolute joy.

This year, I’m wishing for:

• Patience that multiplies like loaves and fish

• Playfulness that turns living rooms into Narnia

• Grace for the moments I snap (even Mufasa had off days)

• Rituals that anchor us including marshmallows, songs, inside jokes

• A sense of humor, because the alternative is crying in the pantry

• Eyes to see the sacred in the chaos

I don’t need to be the perfect parent.
I just want to be a present one.

4. Life: A Story Worth Singing

Life is not a straight line; it’s a musical number with missed cues, forgotten lyrics, and unexpected harmonies.

So here’s what I’m asking for:

• Purpose that feels like a lantern, not a burden

• Friendships that feel like chosen family, Pixar-style

• Creative fire that warms without burning

• Stillness where the Spirit says, “Behold, I am doing a new thing”

• A life that sparkles not because it’s polished, but because it’s honest

• The courage to be found, exactly as I am

I don’t need a new life.
I just want to live the one I have with more wonder.

A Final Wish

If Christmas is anything, it’s God choosing to show up in the middle of our unfinished stories.
Not after we’ve cleaned up.
Not after we’ve figured it out.
Not after we’ve become the version of ourselves we think He prefers.

He comes as we find Him and as He finds us.

And maybe that’s the real wishlist:
A life where I stop trying to earn what has already been given.