I wasn’t quite sure why this holiday season feels different as a mother—until I found myself standing in the middle of an ordinary moment and realizing I didn’t want it to pass. It’s not louder. It’s not more chaotic. Just… quieter. In a way that sneaks up on you. The kind where you’re bundled up with cold hands, twinkle lights flickering on Main Street, and suddenly you realize you’re inside something you’ll miss before it’s even over.

Have you ever felt that?

Earlier this week, we went to the tree lighting and Christmas parade on Main Street. An annual occurrence. One of those traditions you almost talk yourself out of, if I’m being honest. Not because you don’t love it. But because life feels oh-so-full these days. Schedules pulling in every direction. Teenagers who don’t bounce at the idea quite the way they once did. It brings that quiet temptation to call it a night, stay home, and convince yourself you’ll do it “next year.”

And then I was standing there, watching my kids, thinking… Oh. So this is one of those moments. The kind that passes so quickly it barely asks permission. This has been tugging at me all week. Because at the same time the holiday season started nudging me to slow down, life handed me something I wasn’t expecting.

Our oldest son is coming home next semester.

He’ll be back after finals and will be under our roof until next fall. Which means a full house once again. And with that? More laundry. Bigger grocery hauls. Louder mornings. And the quiet, overwhelming joy of having one more body at the dinner table when I thought that chapter had already passed. He’s made the decision to step away from football. He’s also transferring universities. None of that was the plan.

And yet… somehow? It feels like grace all the same. A tender mercy, really.

Because this is likely the last window I’ll have with him home before adulthood fully claims its space. Before “home” becomes the place he visits instead of lives.

And yes—I know. I just shared about visiting him at school after months apart. That’s what makes this moment feel so surreal. I thought that chapter was moving forward. But it circled back instead.

I keep noticing how often life does that. Returning things to us in ways we didn’t script. Not because we earned it. Not because we planned it. Just… because. And I think that’s why this year in business has felt as meaningful—and honestly, more rewarding—than any season before it.

After our daughter’s diagnosis, I burned everything down. Not dramatically. But completely. The pace. The pressure. The belief that I had to hustle to earn my place. I truly didn’t know if I’d ever want to build the same way again. And yet, in the quiet of rebuilding, something steadier showed up. The work became clearer. The direction is more focused.

Don’t get me wrong… nothing is perfectly polished. There are still growing pains in the middle of becoming. But the growth has been bigger than I imagined. Not because I chased it this time. Because it finally made sense. If I’m learning anything, it’s this:

Sometimes what we think we’ve lost hasn’t disappeared. It’s just been held back until we’re ready to carry it differently.

So give me the bustle of the season. The imperfect snapshots. The traditions that leave you tired in the best way. Give me the full house with all the noise and mess and magic that comes with it.

I don’t want to rush past this part.

Because it’s fleeting. And somehow, I already find myself missing it while I still have it.

If you’re in this season too—holding something a little closer than usual—I see you.

And I hope you give yourself permission to linger, friend.