The most wonderful time of the year?

As the holiday season winds down, I’ve been reflecting on the weight of Christmas—its traditions, its expectations, and the feelings it stirs. We grow up hearing songs proclaiming it as “the most wonderful time of the year”, painting idyllic pictures of chestnuts roasting by the fire, love blossoming under mistletoe, and perfect family moments by a twinkling tree.

But what happens when the reality doesn’t match the songs, the movies, or even our own memories? What happens when Christmas feels overwhelming, or worse, hollow?

For me, this year brought a mix of joy and an unsettling sense of inadequacy. My wife and I stayed up late on Christmas Eve, arranging presents under the tree, and for a moment, I looked at her and thought, I feel like the biggest fraud right now.

When I was a kid, Christmas felt magical. I remember believing in Santa with all my heart, savoring the wonder and excitement. When I found out the truth, it crushed me. That moment stuck with me—the exact place, the words my mom said. I cried, not wanting to let go of the magic. Now, as a parent, I’m on the other side of the story, trying to recreate that magic for my kids.

The holidays come with a flood of expectations. The songs and Hallmark movies sell us a picture of romance, joy, and togetherness that can feel unattainable. They whisper, If you’re not happy, if you’re not doing these things, are you really celebrating? As a husband and father, that weight feels heavier—if I’m not sweeping my wife off her feet or creating Instagram-worthy moments for my kids, am I falling short?

This year was our first time celebrating Christmas on our own—just my wife, our children, and me. For the first time, we didn’t have family visiting, nor did we travel to be with them. All our lives, Christmas had been shaped by the traditions of our parents, which isn’t a bad thing; it’s just what we’ve always known. But this year was different.

In many ways, it felt like we were stepping into uncharted territory. We had to reinvent and redefine what Christmas means for us as a family. How do we celebrate the birth of our Savior? How do we create moments that draw us closer together? These are questions we’re still figuring out, and to be honest, I don’t think we have all the answers yet.

Navigating this new terrain can feel a little awkward at first—and that’s okay. Building something meaningful takes time, and finding what works for our family will be a process. It’s a reminder that traditions don’t have to be perfect right away; they just have to come from a place of love and intention.

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And what about those who feel left out entirely? Those who spend Christmas alone, grieving, or struggling to make ends meet? For many, the season is not the happiest time of the year—it’s the hardest.

If this resonates with you, I want you to know: you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel disconnected. It’s okay to feel like you’re just going through the motions. It’s okay if Christmas wasn’t perfect or magical.

Maybe we’ve allowed the commercialization of the season to obscure its true purpose. Beyond the shopping and traditions, Christmas is a time for connection—however that looks for you. It doesn’t have to be grand or picture-perfect. Maybe it’s quietly enjoying a moment of peace or simply being present with those you love.

And if joy feels out of reach, that’s okay too. Life doesn’t pause for Christmas. Grief, loneliness, and struggle don’t take holidays off. If this season has been hard, it doesn’t mean you’re broken or that you failed.

Let’s give ourselves permission to let go of the pressure. Let’s embrace the reality that it’s okay if Christmas isn’t the most wonderful time of the year. Joy doesn’t have to be confined to one day, one season, or one tradition. It’s found in the small, everyday moments that we sometimes overlook.

John, in the New Testament, held a profound perspective on the sacrament. He chose not to include an account of the Last Supper in his Gospel, emphasizing instead that remembering Jesus Christ is not confined to one specific ritual or moment. As author William Barclay explains in The Gospel of John, Volume II, John believed that we can remember Christ at any time, in any place, and at any meal. That was the point: remembrance should be constant, not limited to once a week.

Could we not approach Christmas in the same way? Could we carry its spirit beyond December, finding joy and connection in the everyday? Perhaps the beauty of Christmas isn’t in the date or the traditions, but in its invitation to create moments of joy, love, and reflection—no matter the season.

So, to those feeling like they didn’t measure up this year, to those whose Christmas didn’t sparkle, and to those who found it hard to celebrate: you’re not alone. You’re not broken. And it’s okay.

Let’s start redefining what joy and connection look like—one honest, imperfect, real moment at a time.