The morning after Christmas arrived quietly. My body noticed it first. A mix of tiredness and calm, a little heaviness, a lot of gratitude. The kind of soreness that does not feel alarming, just honest. As if my body was gently asking for care, maybe rest, maybe a massage, maybe simply permission to slow down.
Emotionally, I felt steady. Calm. At peace. December 26 does that to me. It strips away the buildup and leaves behind what is real. No countdown. No performance. Just a quiet invitation to be present in my own skin.
This Christmas surprised me in the best way. It was not rushed. It was smooth, like sailing on calm seas. Time unfolded without pressure. I was with friends, laughter came easily, and nothing felt forced. That alone felt like a gift.
When the Noise Finally Settles
What I am glad is over is not Christmas itself, but the constant motion leading up to it. One party after another can start to blur into obligation. There was a point this month when I overbooked myself and had to cancel plans. I was disappointed, but it taught me something important. I have limits, and honoring them is part of being present for others.
What I am glad I did not rush past was the small moments. Gift wrapping became an unexpected pause instead of a task. I noticed how calm made even familiar routines feel different. Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything, and this season clarified that rest and connection do not compete with each other. They take turns.
Christmas also confirmed what I already know but sometimes forget. I need rest. I need connection. I need reassurance, clarity, and space. Not all at once, but each in its time. Learning that rhythm is part of growing.
Stillness That Holds Us
Today, I sense God most clearly in stillness. When nothing demands attention, I can see more clearly. Luke 10 tells the story of Martha and Mary, and I see myself in both. There are days I default to doing, managing, organizing, checking things off. Today, I want to gently put that down. Responsibility and expectations can wait. Being still matters too.
This in-between day feels like a holy pause. A time to exhale. Psalm 46 reminds us to be still and know, not as a command to stop living, but as an invitation to trust that we are held even when we are not producing.
As writer Pico Iyer once observed, “In an age of acceleration, nothing can be more exhilarating than going slow.” December 26 gives us permission to do exactly that.
Soul Insights
1. The body tells the truth before the mind catches up.
Soreness, fatigue, calm, and gratitude can coexist. Listening to the body is not indulgent, it is wise. December 26 invites awareness instead of override. Rest is not a reward for productivity, it is part of being human. Paying attention now prevents burnout later.
2. Calm is not empty. It is spacious.
The quiet after Christmas can feel unsettling for some. For others, it feels like relief. Space allows us to process what we experienced instead of rushing into the next thing. Calm is where integration happens.
3. Limits protect connection.
Overbooking leads to fragmented presence. Honoring limits allows us to show up fully where we are. Jesus himself withdrew often, reminding us that stepping back is not selfish. It is sustainable.
4. God is clearest in stillness.
Noise can blur perspective. Stillness sharpens it. On days like this, God feels near not through spectacle, but through peace. Romans 8:28 quietly reassures that even rest fits into the bigger picture God is weaving.
5. Joy and connection can continue without pressure.
What Christmas stirred does not have to end with the decorations. Joy does not need a holiday to exist. Connection does not require constant activity. Carrying them forward as posture, not obligation, is enough.
Final Thoughts
Many people feel unexpected emotions on December 26. Relief. Emptiness. Loneliness. Gratitude. A strange mix of all of it. The sudden stillness can feel like a shock after so much noise. My hope is that wherever you are today, you find peace and happiness in your own way.
This day does not ask you to fix anything or figure everything out. It simply invites you to rest in what is.
Your Turn
Today, choose one small act of gentleness. Take a nap. Sit quietly. Journal one sentence about what you are grateful for. Let December 26 be a soft landing, not a reset button.
By the way…
While you’re here, I’d love for you to explore my book 17 Syllables of Me and visit my website, SoulPath Insights.
Thank you for taking the time to read! 🤗
© 2025 Amelie Chambord
Soul Path Insights 
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