Every December, something odd happens to otherwise reasonable adults.
We lose our minds.

Not entirely, but enough that a simple trip to the mall feels like a strategic military operation. Parking becomes a competitive sport. Coffee lines get longer. And everyone seems to be hunting for that one mythical gem known as the “perfect gift,” which, according to commercials, is anything from a diamond necklace to a turbocharged blender that shoots kale into orbit.

Here is the funny part.
Most of us don’t actually know what the perfect gift is. We are just sure we have not found it yet. So we pace aisles, refresh Amazon, and ask our loved ones what they want. The typical adult answer?

“Oh… nothing really. Something small.”

This is code for, “I actually want the new high-tech, top-shelf, wildly impractical thing that lights up my entire nervous system, but I am far too embarrassed to say it out loud.”

Why do we do this?
Why pretend our desires are as minimal as a postage stamp when, inside, we are eyeing the newest trending item, like Gollum and his precious?

I think it has something to do with confusing want and desire.

A want is like a passing wish.
A desire has a little more sparkle. It has heart in it. It has energy behind it. And it usually points to something meaningful, even if the thing itself is not.

But our thinking gets in the way.
We think we should not want too much.
We think wanting something makes us selfish.
We think asking for what we truly desire will inconvenience someone.

This is where the holiday snowglobe comes in.

Yes, the actual snowglobe sitting on your mantle. The one you pick up, shake, and admire for ten seconds before getting distracted by shortbread cookies.

When you shake it, everything looks chaotic. There are flakes everywhere. You cannot see the little cabin inside. You cannot see the scene as it is. All you see is the storm.

This is exactly what our minds do during the holiday season.
We shake ourselves into overthinking.

“What should I get them?”
“What if they do not like it?”
“What if it is not enough?”
“What if it is too much?”
“What if they already have one?”
“What if I look like I did not put any thought into it?”

Our thoughts swirl. Our mood drops. Our clarity disappears.

Then we stare at socks and wonder if matching colours counts as love.

But when the snow settles, something simple and true appears.

We see that gift-giving is not about perfection.
It is not a test.
And it certainly is not an evaluation of your worthiness as a human being.

When the mind settles, we naturally see what matters.
We notice what the person actually enjoys.
We remember moments.
We recall little things they have said throughout the year.
We see their humanness.
We see their heart.

From that quieter place, giving becomes easy.
It becomes fun.
It becomes an adventure instead of a burden.

And here is the secret.
The perfect gift is not the one that checks every box.
It is the one chosen from a settled state of mind.

A clear mind, even for a few seconds, gives you more insight than a hundred hours of pacing a mall with frantic holiday music playing overhead.

You cannot see clearly through a storm, whether it is snow or overthinking.
But give your mind a moment to settle, just like the snowglobe, and something beautiful shows up.

You see possibilities.
You see simple ideas.
You see what makes sense.

And every time, without fail, you see enough.

So as you shop, wrap, and survive the season, remember this.
The perfect gift is not found through overthinking.
It is found through clarity.
And clarity is our natural state once the thinking snowstorm drifts to the ground.

Happy shopping.
Happy giving.
And may your internal snowglobe settle often, especially while standing in line at the local Costco.

Much love,

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Here are a few heartfelt holiday shorts for you to cry over…okay, I’m crying over.

REFLECTION QUESTION

When you think about someone you love, what do you notice about them when your mind settles? What shows up for you when the internal snowglobe clears?

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