An Invitation to Slow Down and Come Home to Yourself

What if Advent is less like a countdown to Christmas and more like an invitation to breathe?

Every year, right as life starts speeding up—more commitments, more noise, more pressure to have things figured out—Advent quietly whispers, What if you didn’t rush? What if you made some space instead?

Not space to be more productive.

Not space to fix yourself.

Just space to notice what’s already there.

Most of us don’t give ourselves much permission to pause. We live in reaction mode—responding to expectations, responsibilities, and the subtle belief that clarity will come after we push a little harder. Advent offers a different kind of wisdom. It reminds us that waiting isn’t wasted time, and stillness isn’t stagnation.

Something meaningful happens when we slow down.

We begin to hear our own lives again.

We notice what’s tired.

We notice what’s longing.

We notice what we’ve been carrying that maybe was never meant to be carried alone.

This kind of reflection isn’t about getting stuck in your head or overanalyzing your life. It’s about honesty. It’s about creating enough interior space for what’s true to surface—sometimes for the first time in a long while. And from that place, clarity starts to form. Not forced clarity. Not five-year-plan clarity. But the kind that feels grounded, gentle, and trustworthy.

For those who want something concrete to try, this can be as simple as setting aside ten quiet minutes at the same time each day during Advent to ask one honest question—What’s asking for my attention right now?—and writing whatever comes without editing or fixing it. Just notice what comes up for you.

Here’s the paradox: when we slow down like this, we often end up moving forward with more confidence and energy. Our choices come from intention instead of urgency. We’re no longer just reacting to life—we’re participating in it. Purpose becomes less about striving and more about alignment.

This is one of the reasons I love Advent so much. It mirrors how real transformation tends to happen. God doesn’t arrive in a hurry. Change doesn’t come through pressure. Growth unfolds slowly, quietly, often beneath the surface—like light growing in the dark.

This is also at the heart of what life coaching does.

Coaching creates intentional space to pause, reflect, and listen beneath the noise. It’s a place to name what’s actually happening in your life, reconnect with what matters most, and begin moving forward with greater clarity and direction.

Advent reminds us that making space is not falling behind—it’s how we come home to ourselves. As St. Columba is often quoted as saying, “Be alone in a quiet place, so that you can see clearly what is in your heart.” That kind of quiet isn’t about escaping life; it’s about seeing it more truthfully.

If this season is stirring something in you—questions about direction, purpose, or simply a desire to feel more grounded—you don’t have to navigate that alone. I’d love to offer a free exploratory call. It’s a relaxed, no-pressure conversation where we can create a bit of that quiet together, listen for what’s already present, and explore what it might look like for you to move forward with greater clarity and intention.

Advent invites us to slow down.

To listen.

To trust that in the waiting, something good is already growing.

I wonder, what might be growing in you during this season of waiting?