Would you say Christmas is an ideal time to reset one's life and realign with destiny? I know there will be celebrations and everything, but I feel tempted to do things differently this time. I recently became a father and I want to start living more purposefully. How do I do that? I am Andrew, 39, married and a father to two.
Andrew, the holiday season is upon us, and many will repeat the same cycles they've lived through over the years – accruing holiday debt, reverting to expensive habits, rekindling unhealthy connections, and rolling back the progress they made throughout the year. But you, you're different. You are a child of destiny, and you have no room for going back. That's why you're looking for insights on how to do better. That's why you're asking questions like this. So, let's dive in.
Christmas isn’t just a holiday. It is a divine pause, a sacred turning point where the year slows down enough for the soul to catch up. It invites you to look at your life honestly and courageously. It is the doorway between who you have been and who you can become. Christmas carries a unique atmosphere that is impossible to replicate at any other time of the year. Christmas provides that garage to fix things and revive what was broken.
This is the time when the world slows down, work pauses, people soften, and hearts open. We become more reflective. We notice that our nieces and nephews have grown bigger since the last holiday. We notice the subtle but sure ageing of our parents. We silently observe that our siblings are adding grey hairs and taking on a more mature posture.
Then it hits us – we, like everyone else, are being carried along by the unforgiving wheel of time. The midnight of December 31 arrives, and the countdown begins. There's glee and fireworks in the air. And then the clocks turn. People forget themselves and party with reckless abandon. But you, you don't want to forget. You want to remember.
A family attends a virtual meeting during Christmas.
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You toss the champagne and cast your wishes like everyone else, but you're also working in the background. You're reckoning with the times. As soon as the tide goes down and people fall asleep, your spirit awakens. You stroll into the farm. You stop by the barn. You take in the calm breeze.
There's faint music throbbing from the nightclubs in the market. But you're hearing another drummer. The cows sigh, and the donkey stomps its feet. The cock flaps its feathers, preparing to crow. Then it hits you – it is three in the morning already. People partied way past midnight.
But what else has already passed the midnight? The year has turned, but what else has turned? Your life. You're no longer that young. The year that has gone has also carried away a chapter of your life. You'll never be 30 again, 35 again, 40 again. Especially if you're 35 and above, you've already reached mid-life. The end is in view. You should be working on how to finish in style.
You glance at the moon, and it seems to smile back. Suddenly, you remember the innocence of your childhood and how you sang under the moon with your siblings and cousins. You wonder why all of you are being carried away by time, but the moon remains forever young. You're not a poet per se, but something dawns in you.
There's a part of you that doesn't grow old. The child within you still feels as young and vibrant as it was when you were seven. You tiptoe back to bed, but you're too awake to sleep. So, you pull out your journal and, using your phone's torch lest you disturb the sleeping, you scribble your thoughts down in the form of resolutions.
You write: The ending of the year has brought me clarity that I need to be resolute in everything I do. No more emotional detours and mindless spending, whether of my time or my energy.
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Second, I am writing a not-to-do list comprising things I did this past year that I never want to do again. I'm too old for friendships that gather only around flexing and peer pressure, for example. I need a progressive company and people who come together to sharpen each other like iron.
Third, I am starting a countdown instead of just counting my age. I will keep a record of how many more years of strength I have to go, as a reminder of the brevity of life. Fourth, every month, I will invest some money, and every month, I will pour love into the hearts of my children and my partner.
I want the epitaph on my grave to read something like, ‘I came, I lived, and I loved. I laughed with my own.’ Fifth, I know this period will pass, and life will force us to disperse and return to the yoke of life. But I don't want to veer away from my commitments. So, I will set aside 30 minutes every morning to sit with myself and plan, pray, and infuse my soul with knowledge and strength.
Six, I forgive and release all offences I carried this year and send remorse to everyone I hurt. May I enter the New Year light and in good spirits. Seven, I commit to touching base every Christmas and reviewing these resolutions to strengthen my commitment and adjust my path.
The Christmas season, if used well, can transform your entire year. Soldier on, brother.
