Why I Am Still Saying Merry Christmas

The other day, I was walking through a store with my three-year-old daughter. As we passed people in the aisle, I said, “Merry Christmas.” Without hesitation, she echoed it right back. “Merry Christmas.”

What stayed with me were the reactions. Some people looked surprised, almost caught off guard, as if unsure how to respond or having not heard those words spoken directly in a while. Others immediately smiled, made eye contact, and responded warmly with an enthusiastic “Merry Christmas.” In those moments, you could feel it. A genuine exchange of joy. Something small, but deeply human. And then there were moments when the words were met with silence, when people kept moving. All of it lingered with me. 

Those brief interactions reminded me how much meaning simple words can carry, especially during a season that feels heavy for so many. I know that “Happy Holidays” has become the expected phrase, and I understand why. People come from different backgrounds, beliefs, and traditions, and language often shifts to reflect that. For me, saying “Merry Christmas” is not about drawing lines or making assumptions about others. It is about intention. It is about warmth. It is about choosing connection in a time when many people feel stretched thin. 

This season has not been easy.

Everything feels more expensive. Groceries. Gas. Necessities. The job market has been challenging, and I have been actively searching for work for months. Like many others, I have felt the weight of uncertainty, waiting, and rejection. People are being laid off. Stability feels fragile. There is a quiet heaviness many families are carrying right now, whether spoken aloud or not. 

And yet, even in the middle of all of this, I keep returning to gratitude. One of the greatest blessings our family has experienced this year has been my son Joshie’s progress in an intensive feeding program through Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. 

When Joshie was around two years old, he abruptly stopped eating most foods and would only tolerate infant cereal. Healthcare professionals explained to us sensory sensitivities associated with his autism, particularly around texture and temperature, were preventing him from eating regular meals. Like many families navigating specialized care, we were placed on a waiting list with no clear timeline. 

When we received the call that an opening had become available this year, it brought overwhelming joy and relief. This is a highly regarded and intensive program, one that families travel from different states to access. The level of care is evident in every interaction. The staff at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta has shown extraordinary patience, expertise, and compassion, not only toward Joshie, but toward our entire family. 

Watching our son begin to eat foods that once felt impossible, mac and cheese, carrots, pineapple, chicken breast, has meant more to us than anything that could ever sit under a Christmas tree. Those moments carry a weight that no gift could replace. They remind me that progress, healing, and presence often matter far more than appearances or traditions ever could. 

That perspective has reshaped how I approach this season. For some people, Christmas represents faith. For others, it represents family, tradition, generosity, or simply a pause in the year to be more present with one another. For me, it holds all of those meanings, rooted in my Christian faith. 

The story of Christmas begins with an announcement made amid ordinary life. According to the King James Version, the angel said to the shepherds, “Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” That message was not delivered to the powerful or the prepared. It was spoken to people simply doing their work, people who likely carried their own worries, responsibilities, and uncertainties. 

That detail has always mattered to me. 

The message was not a demand. It was an offering. Joy. Peace. Hope. Not reserved for a select few, but extended to all. That framing shapes how I understand this season and how I move through difficult moments within it. 

For me, Christmas exists because of Jesus Christ. It is through Him that hope entered a broken world, not by removing hardship, but by meeting people within it. That belief allows me to keep choosing joy even when circumstances feel unsettled. It reminds me that peace does not require everything to be resolved before it can exist. 

That is why saying “Merry Christmas” matters so profoundly to me. It is not meant to persuade or divide. It is my way of echoing that original message of good tidings and great joy. A simple expression. An open offering. A reminder that even in uncertain seasons, hope can still be spoken aloud. 

I want my children to understand something even broader than that. I want them to know that Christmas is not defined by what we can afford or what we place under a tree. I want them to learn that joy is not something you buy. It is something you carry. When my daughter cheerfully says “Merry Christmas” to a stranger, she is not making a statement. She is offering warmth. And that feels like something worth protecting. 

So yes, I am still saying “Merry Christmas.”

I am saying it while navigating uncertainty. I am saying it while trusting God with what comes next. And I am saying it with an open heart toward anyone who receives it differently than I do. 

If you are reading this and feeling overwhelmed, stretched thin, or unsure about the future, it is my hope this season brings you moments of light, connection, and kindness, however you define them. Joy is still possible. Peace is still available. And hope is still alive.

Merry Christmas.