When Plans Fall Away
When Plans Fall Away
Reflections on marriage, rest, and the quiet week between Christmas and the New Year
The Quiet Week
There is something about the week between Christmas and New Year’s that feels suspended in time. The celebrations are behind us, the calendar has not yet turned, and life grows quieter.
This year, our plans fell away.
We Prepared for a Full House
Like many families, we had done all the usual things. The house was decorated. The tree was lit. Presents were wrapped and placed underneath. Stockings were hung. The refrigerator was stocked. Cookies were baked. Everything was ready for a full, noisy, chaotic Christmas with children and grandchildren filling the house.
And then illness changed everything.
Our oldest daughter and her husband and two children were too sick to travel. Our middle daughter was unable to come home. What we had prepared for so carefully did not unfold as expected.
A Smaller, Quieter Christmas
Instead, my husband and I attended Christmas Eve Mass with our youngest, our son. We shared a quiet dinner, just the three of us. The next morning, our son left for Florida, and suddenly the house was still.
It was not the Christmas we would have chosen.
When Rest Is Forced Upon Us
We had braced ourselves for a hectic holiday, for hosting and managing and moving constantly, as we often do. Both of us are “on the go” by temperament. Rest does not come easily to either of us. It usually has to be forced.
And in an unexpected way, it was.
What we thought would be a full, chaotic Christmas turned into three days of quiet, unplanned rest and relaxation. At first, it felt disappointing and disorienting. Slowly, though, it began to feel providential. What we did not choose was perhaps exactly what we both needed.
Marriage in Its Right Place
After thirty-five years of marriage, and now living as empty nesters, moments like this reveal something important. When children grow, plans fall apart, and family life looks different than we imagined, what remains becomes very clear.
Marriage does not have to be perfect to be a blessing. It simply needs to be in its right place.
But our marriage is more than a refuge, though it certainly is that. It is also a deep friendship. We laugh together. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company. We get on each other’s nerves. We experience normal tension and disagreement. And still, we cherish our marriage as a God given gift. Not because we are perfect people, but because we were given to one another to share life together this side of heaven.
What Isolation Teaches Us
Illness continues to circulate widely right now, and with my upcoming surgery and medical leave, we have had to remain especially cautious. The resulting sense of isolation has been strangely reminiscent of the lockdown days during COVID.
It has reminded us how profoundly we are made for relationship, for presence, for community and communion. When those are missing, even temporarily, we feel it in our bodies and hearts. Anxiety rises. Sadness settles in. Disconnection weighs heavily.
These are not personal failures, but human signals. We were not created to live alone.
Taking Stock as a New Year Approaches
As we approach the beginning of a new year, this quiet week offers a gentle invitation, not to make resolutions, but to take stock.
What are you grateful for this year, even if it arrived wrapped in disappointment or loss?
What might you wish you had handled differently?
What are you ready to leave behind?
What needs forgiveness, release, or renewed attention?
Where might God be inviting you not to overhaul your life, but simply to reorder what matters most?
A Gentle Way Forward
We do not need perfect clarity as the year turns. We only need honesty and openness to what is being revealed.
As we step into 2025, my hope for you is not a flawless year, but a rightly ordered one. A year where relationships are tended gently, rest is received when it is given, and we trust that God is present even when plans fall away.
