Embracing Limitations

I wonder what Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had in mind when he composed the lines, And peace on earth, good will toward men? They are familiar words to me in the song I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day , but some years the racing about—trying to cram as much activity into December as possible—is more familiar to me than peace.

You too?



If there is a time of year I want to buck my limitations, it is the Christmas season. I don’t want to miss out on anything. Or at least, I don’t feel like I should miss out—because I don’t want to disappoint someone.

Again… you too?

Here’s the thing. We can’t do it all and do it well. We can’t add more water to an already overflowing glass.

And maybe that’s part of the invitation of the season.

The first Christmas was full of human limits: a weary couple traveling by foot and donkey, a young mother giving birth far from home, a feeding trough as a bed, and humble witnesses with their sheep. 

Yet now, centuries later, we often assume love looks like capacity without a ceiling, energy without an end, and bodies without needs.

We demand that our bodies continue to meet the needs of the season. We don’t allow time for rest. We feel frustrated when our energy slows and disappointed when we get sick. Or we push through sickness because we still don’t want to miss out. We ignore the need for nourishing food and sufficient sleep, and then wonder why we feel irritable and foggy-headed. We shame our bodies when the sugar cravings win. We skip exercise so we can squeeze one more task into the day. We run ourselves thin and call it commitment. We pour ourselves out and call it devotion.

But exhaustion is not a gift.
A depleted body cannot delight.
A hurried heart cannot remember well.

Embracing limitations honors the body and allows you to feel good while being truly present during this Christmas season. It means giving your physical self permission to be human—finite, hungry, tired, in need—and discovering that caring for your body actually expands your ability to care for others.

When we choose:

• nourishment instead of only sugar-fuel,
• sleep instead of one more late-night scroll or wrap session,
• a walk instead of only a sprint,
• rest instead of relentless doing…

…we stop fighting our design and start living in it.

A well-nourished body is steadier.
A rested mind is kinder.
A regulated nervous system laughs more easily at Christmas lights and spilled cocoa.
Presence comes naturally when we are not in survival mode.

So when the bells ring this year—maybe we’ll hear them differently, as a reminder to slow down and sense the rest in our bodies and the peace in our hearts.