As winter settles in, the days shrink like they’ve got somewhere better to be, and suddenly it feels like there’s barely enough daylight to make a cup of coffee, let alone muster up the “holiday cheer” every commercial insists we should be radiating. The sun taps out early, the cold taps in hard, and our collective patience? Well… that seems to go the way of the fallen leaves—crisp, brittle, and ready to snap with the slightest pressure.
It’s a paradox we all live through: the season rolling in with twinkling lights, peppermint everything, and the pressure to be joyful exactly when our circadian rhythms, skin moisture levels, and serotonin supplies are staging a revolt. That tension—between the tidy fantasy of Christmas spirit and the messy reality of winter moods—is real. This is the time of year when someone cutting you off in a parking lot might feel like a personal attack, but then the very next moment, you find yourself tearing up at a commercial with a dog in a Santa hat. The holidays make emotional yo-yos of us all.
But here’s the magic: even in the shortest days, something about this season stretches our hearts in the opposite direction. While tempers get shorter, our capacity for small kindnesses somehow expands—tiny gestures that don’t need sunshine to grow. A neighbor brings in someone’s garbage bin. A stranger pays for the next coffee. A friend texts “thinking about you.” None of these are headline moments, but together, they build the softer, truer version of Christmas spirit—the one that doesn’t care about perfect wrapping paper or a spotless living room.
Maybe that’s the real lesson quietly tucked between the cold air and the crowded stores: the Christmas spirit isn’t a mood you flip on like a switch; it’s a practice. A choice. A gentle resistance to the season’s frayed nerves and frantic energy. It’s catching yourself before the short temper wins, taking a breath, and choosing grace instead. It’s admitting that some days we won’t get it right—and trying again anyway.
Because even when the days are short, there’s still enough light to be kind. Even when patience runs thin, generosity can run deep. And even when winter makes everything feel a little heavier, the Christmas spirit invites us to lighten the load for someone else—sometimes with nothing more than a warm smile in the cold.
So let the days stay short. Let the tempers flare and fade. The Christmas spirit isn’t threatened by the darkness—it shines because of it.
Apache Widow 