“Leave space for grace.”

In the months leading up to Christmas, my 11-year-old made his gift request unmistakably clear. Repeatedly. Strategically. Persistently.

He wanted a Cooper Flagg, Dallas Mavericks jersey.

While he was busy jockeying for position on his Christmas wish list…and, quite frankly, largely missing the reason for the season, I noticed the same record playing everywhere. Walking through Walmart, kids negotiated, pleaded, and campaigned for very specific treasures and requests. Desire filled the aisles, and their expectations were high.

Fast-forward to Christmas morning.

Eli woke up early and discovered that his wish had been granted. Dallas Mavericks. Number 32. Correct name. Correct color. Correct size. And it fit.

A Christmas miracle. And further proof of Jennifer’s remarkable ability to quietly manage an entire production without anyone noticing until the curtain rises.

Expectations exceeded. Everyone happy.

The holidays are a unique stretch of the year. A concentrated period where we bring together family and friends...mixed and traditional...with wildly different opinions, histories, temperaments, patience and tolerance levels…for longer-than-normal periods of time…in closer-than-ideal quarters...and having eaten larger than average portions of food we don't normally consume.

(Enter: Dr. Gastroenterologist - Who decided major holidays should occur during the coldest, most indoor months?)

We gather millions of people with deeply rooted expectations and random traditions. We eat food we rarely eat. Talk about things we don’t normally talk about. And do it all in the same living room.

Every year, the same debates resurface (none of us are that far off from Clark W. Griswald's group):

• Open one gift at a time (Aunt Margaret yells over a hottie-tottie, “So everyone can see what everyone gets!”) or all at once (the equivalent of World War III with small children)?
• Will we subject ourselves to this on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?
• Are we getting gifts for everyone or just the kids & grand-kids?
• Which side of the family do we visit first?
• Turkey and dressing or chicken noodle soup?
• Fine china or paper plates?
• Sit and visit all day, play football, or take a walk?

The list of expectations is endless. And because these traditions are so deeply embedded, changing even one can feel like an act of war.

So what happens when the Cooper Flagg jersey is non-existent, but something more relevant (I know it's hard to believe) like an actual basketball, or, God-forbid, a pair of socks was sitting under the tree? 

What is our response when expectations are inevitably not met...with our spouse, family, friends, community, co-workers, employer, or within ourselves?

As we head into 2026 with fresh energy, my encouragement is simple: 

“Leave space for grace.”

Maybe our own expectations should take a backseat. Maybe others are doing as much, and as good, as they can. Maybe there’s something more going on that prevents the jersey from being purchased, the 20 lb turkey from being cooked or "the kids" from visiting us first.

In the grand scheme…

The chickens, turkeys, or Cooper Flagg won’t mind. Your meal nutrients will be the same regardless of what plate it’s served on. The kids will get some gifts. The grandparents will survive. Take the walk. Play the game. Sit and visit. Do it all—but breathe through the process.

And spoken from someone who feels overly responsible to accomplish every new goal by January 8th: You’ve got time, dude! 

An entire year, in fact. Rome wasn’t built in a day…a month…or even a year (In fact, it took about 1000 years).

Set a slightly new trajectory.
Show grace to the people around you.
And know this: you’re not behind.

You’re actually ahead if you’ve made it this far in this article.

Remain encouraged,
Brian