When Christmas Doesn't Look Like You Hoped It Would — Again.
When it’s another Christmas and you’re still praying for the same things, how do you walk through the season with less focus on what (and who) is missing?
For some people, Christmas is full calendars, matching pajamas, and “best year yet” energy.
For others, it quietly shines a massive light on everything that hasn’t happened yet.
Another year single.
Another year not pregnant.
Another year in a job you swore you’d be out of by now.
Or a first Christmas without the person you thought would always be at your table.
For some of us, it’s not just what we hoped would happen this year and didn’t. For others, it’s who isn’t here anymore.
For me, it’s a mix of both. I’m still coming home for the holidays alone. No boyfriend, no husband (my Yiayia loves to remind me).
But more painfully, this is my first Christmas without my Papou. He’s my missing seat at the table — the head of the table. This whole year has been hard with constant reminders of his absence, but this season amplifies it in the worst ways.
He was the family chef, the generous host, the one who magnetically pulled everyone together and unintentionally created so many of my favorite holiday memories and traditions. So when I say Christmas can magnify what you don’t have, I get it. I feel it.
I mention “gaps” not just as vague disappointments. I mean the husband you thought you’d have by now, the baby you’re still praying for, the job or move or breakthrough that keeps getting pushed back another year, and the people you assumed you’d get one more Christmas with.
But if all you do this month is stare at those gaps – the ones you can’t fix or reverse – why not just skip the whole season all together? You’ll breeze past every good thing in front of you anyway.
A lot of us, including myself, usually have it all wrong. We think of this time of year as a reminder of what we lack. When it’s whole purpose is reminding us everything that we do.
No, not the job we’re currently in or the place we live. Not even our family and friends. I’m talking about the greatest gift of all. The gift of eternal life. The forgiveness of our sins. The opportunity to serve God no matter what our circumstances.
Now before I lose some of you with such an enigmatic perspective, I promise it all comes back to the real pains you’re feeling. Think of it this way: without a promotion or a boyfriend, there will still be Christmas. Without Jesus, there would be nothing.
So where is your focus?
The Thing You Stare At Will Always Gets Bigger
None of us can snap our fingers and conjure up a spouse, a pregnancy, a healed relationship, or a brand-new life chapter by December 25.
We can, however, decide what gets our attention.
Because what you stare at will always grow bigger. If all you look at this month is the void, don’t be surprised when that’s all you feel.
I know, the gap feels big already. It’s totally feels unescapable, like the truest thing in the room — especially when you scroll and play the comparison game.
But here’s the thing: focusing on what’s missing doesn’t actually change it. It just drains every bit of joy out of what’s already here.
That’s where Christmas stops being a Hallmark slogan and actually becomes practical.
You hoped this would be the year everything in your life was finally in place. But what one wildly comforting thought is this: Christ was born into a world, into a moment, where almost nothing was.
Use the First Christmas as Your Lens
We dress it up now with ornate decorations and expensive gifts, but the first Christmas wasn’t perfect or pretty. It was inconvenient, messy, uncomfortable.
A young girl giving birth on a dirty manager surrounded by livestock.
No room, no doctors, no comfort.
It was simple. It was uncertain. It was a stark contrast to the expectations of any royal or noble birth.
Mary and Joseph had no idea the true magnitude of God’s plan for them in this moment of humility and confusion.
So no, a hard year does not make this Christmas any “less than.”
It doesn’t make it less meaningful, or less real.
If anything, it might bring you closer to what it’s always been about.
Remember, God is the one who sits with you when your house is too quiet, your table has an empty seat, your phone isn’t lighting up with the news you hoped for, and the year didn’t turn out how you pictured.
Your chaos, your “not yet,” your pain – doesn’t change Christmas. It may change your perspective of it. But that’s on you.
Sometimes the Answers are Simple
Changing your mindset can be hard. I get that, really. So what I’m trying this year is thinking small and honest.
Here’s what I’ve been trying:
Show up to at least one Christmas service on purpose, not just out of tradition. Maybe it’s a new one. An advent service, a memorial service. Let yourself really listen.
Pick one short passage or verse for the month and keep coming back to it when your mind starts spiraling. Write it down. Repeat it. Talk to God about it.
Choose a gospel to read by Christmas morning. Make the 25th your deadline and intentionally schedule what and when you’ll read each day until then.
Create a prayer calendar. Your prayer can be as simple as: “I don’t have what I thought I would by now, but I have You. And You’re not going anywhere.”
You’re not performing for God. You’re just turning your attention back to and creating an anchor in the One this whole season is actually about.
Here are some other good practices:When you think, “I thought I’d be married by now,” try asking:
“Who can I be intentional with this week who might be feeling even more alone than I do?”When you think, “Another year in the same job,” try:
“Where did I see God be kind to me in this job this year, even if it’s not where I want to stay?”When you think, “Nothing big happened for me this year,” try:
“What are three small, quiet ways I actually grew that no one on the internet would ever clap for – but heaven probably did?”
It’s not toxic positivity. It’s refusing to let your eyes deceive you that God has still been present and kind, even in a year that didn’t go to plan.
Often the Good is What Hasn’t Changed
Anchoring yourself in why we celebrate at all can be truly transformative. But there’s also so many other things that bring light to the season that we often take for granted. Don’t overlook the small things.
The favorite Christmas song that hits the same way every year.
The silly tradition your family does that would honestly wreck you if it disappeared (even if you like to eye roll at it publicly).
The look in your niece/nephew or son/daughter’s eyes when they see lights, hear sleigh bells, or hug Santa at the mall.
Those decades-old decorations your mom or dad pull out that bring back the same wave of nostalgia every time.
For me, the list is bigger than I deserve. Cookie decorating with my niece and nephew, baking with my Yiayia, Christmas Eve service when all the candles are lit, watching It’s a Wonderful Life by the wood-burning fire by dad built…
Those don’t feel like “big” things. But they are.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is actually notice what hasn’t changed yet. That can be a blessing in itself – because once it does, you may never get this exact version of it back.
You may not have the things you thought you’d have by now. But there are good, steady things right in front of you this Christmas that future you would give anything to experience one more time.
You May Not See It, But You Can Try
What you’re lacking doesn’t make this season any less than it always was.
There is one thing that you’ll never be without, and that’s Jesus.
That’s THE reason to celebrate.
If all you do this month is focus on the unchangeable things that didn’t happen on your timeline – you might as well skip to January. Why would you ever want that?
So if you can let your focus move, even a little, who is always present, to the small, ordinary, beautiful things that haven’t changed yet – your heart will feel completely full.
You don’t have to have the life you pictured to have a meaningful Christmas.
You just have to be willing to show up to the one you actually have…
and let Him meet you there.


