Christmas on the Farm
If I’m being honest, the lead-up to Christmas Eve was busy. The animals (cough cough Beau) needed extra love and attention, and everything felt last minute despite my early efforts to get things together. It became one of those “we’ll figure it out as we go” situations—which, honestly, works well for my mind. A little last-minute pressure tends to kick me into gear. And as things often do, when the day arrived everything went imperfectly perfect; the unpolished feel of it all seemed to help everyone settle in.
The day was just… easy. There was laughter everywhere. Adults fully participated, competing like kids to find the Christmas pickle or sneaking downstairs to craft ornaments. There was no schedule to follow and no pressure—just a laid-back, go-with-the-flow kind of afternoon.
The animals were curious about it all, quietly watching the chaos unfold as if they were part of the guest list. The side-by-side pulled kids and adults alike, and we only lost a couple of riders to not-so-mysterious brown landmines. You could hear the engine stop, followed by laughter, as everyone dusted themselves off and climbed back on.
What stood out most, though, was how naturally we all settled. We weren’t rushing. We weren’t performing. We were just there—together, as a family.
Christmas Eve on the farm reminded me that rest doesn’t always look like stillness. Sometimes it looks like play, shared meals, snow-covered boots, and laughing so hard you forget what time it is.
As a massage therapist, I see that same shift happen when people finally feel safe enough to let go. The body softens. Breathing changes. Shoulders drop. Whether it’s on a massage table or standing in a snowy field with hot chocolate in hand, the nervous system responds to the same things: connection, ease, and permission to slow down in whatever way feels natural. That’s what this day was—and honestly, it was enough.
Have I learned my lesson that planning and prepping doesn’t have to come with the stress of hosting? I can promise you I have not. But I am learning that rest is taking on a different meaning these days. Rest is often found in laughing at the predicaments the animals find themselves in, helping those around me breathe a little easier, and accepting that I’m not perfect—but I am perfectly loved.
I hope you all found, one way or another, a moment of rest this holiday season.
