Some say Christmas is about
family,
a holy birth,
time off,
full tables and empty inboxes,
gifts wrapped carefully,
rituals repeated faithfully,
a pause in the year,
peace on earth,
generosity,
gratitude,
nostalgia,
escape,
obligation,
hope.
Perhaps it is all of that.
Christmas arrives carrying warmth and weight in equal measure.
It gathers people we choose,
and people we don’t.
Friends feel easy.
Family asks something different of us.
This is the season of proximity.
Of shared histories re-entering the room.
Of old roles quietly waiting for us to step back into them.
Of familiar conversations that still know how to find the tender spots.
Christmas offers mirror time.
Not always the flattering kind.
The more honest kind.
We notice what still catches us.
What irritates, tightens, withdraws.
Unfinished business,
family scripts,
learned silences,
defences built long before leadership titles ever arrived.
Here, our shadow is close enough to be seen.
Feelings we stay busy to avoid, asking for a seat at the table.
The body remembers what the mind prefers to skip past.
This is not the fault of the season.
It is the gift.
A present rarely labelled as such.
An invitation to notice ourselves in relation to others.
To see where choice still exists.
To practise acceptance where control runs out.
To forgive, including ourselves, for being human in familiar patterns.
Leadership does not take a holiday here.
It simply changes rooms.
It becomes quieter.
More internal.
More relational.
Christmas offers the chance to lead from love rather than performance.
From curiosity rather than certainty.
From presence rather than position.
If there is a purpose,
perhaps it lives here.
In choosing relationship.
In staying open when closing would be easier.
In recognising growth disguised as discomfort.
This, too, is Christmas.
A time for love.