Welcome back to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.
It’s the Monday after Christmas.The wrapping paper has long been thrown out. The last leftovers are quietly disappearing from the fridge. The noise has dimmed. The guests have gone home. And suddenly—There’s stillness.
And in that stillness, something sacred begins to stir.This week between Christmas and New Year’s is unlike any other. It’s a space out of time. A soft, suspended breath. A pocket of gentle silence in a world that so rarely stops spinning.
And in that quiet?We begin to see ourselves again.
Maybe you’re sitting at your desk today, the rhythm of work slowly returning.Or maybe you’re still wrapped in blankets, sipping coffee in the late morning light.Wherever you are, you may feel it too:The tug of something new.
Every year, this week asks us the same quiet question—What now?
The sparkle of the holiday may still linger, but it fades into reflection.We begin to think about resolutions. About goals. About change.Who we want to become.What we’ll leave behind.What we’ll carry forward.
But before you start listing everything you want to fix—Before you call yourself a project—Let me offer you this:
You are not starting over.You are not broken.You are not behind.You are not late.
You are becoming.
And you’ve been becoming all year long.
Every moment you gave love instead of withdrawing it.Every choice to be kind when you could have snapped.Every time you paused, breathed, and responded with grace instead of fear—
All of that is part of the story.And none of it is wasted.
You’re not stepping into a new year with nothing.You’re stepping forward with the treasure of every love-filled, truth-filled, patient step you’ve already taken.That’s your ground.That’s your legacy.That’s your starting point.
So let your resolutions, if you make them, rise from love—not shame.Let them be love letters to the person you’re already becoming.
You are not behind because you haven’t hit every goal.You are not less because you’ve stumbled.You are not unfinished because you’re still learning.
You’re here.Right on time.Still breathing.Still loving.Still trying.
That’s not failure.That’s faith.
Maybe this year you’ll say “I love you” without waiting for someone else to say it first.Maybe this year you’ll dance when no one else joins in.Maybe this year you’ll laugh loud, cry freely, rest deeply, and stop apologizing for your light.
Let this be the year you grow softer, not harder.The year you reach further, not shrink back.The year you trust love—not because it’s always safe, but because it’s always worth it.
And if you make promises this week, let them be promises of kindness.Let them be less about control, and more about connection.Less about fixing, and more about unfolding.
You don’t have to erase the old you to become the new.You just need to let the light touch more of you.And trust that what blooms in love never blooms in vain.
So here’s to a new year.But more than that—Here’s to the old love you’ve carried all along.The love that stayed.The love that grew.The love that held you through everything.
It’s not just about what you’ll do next.It’s about who you’ve already become on the way here.
So don’t rush.Don’t race.Let this week cradle you.Let it whisper to you.Let it remind you…
Love didn’t end with Christmas.Love doesn’t begin with New Year’s.
Love is already here.And it’s already yours.
Happy Monday, dear hearts.Let’s begin again.Together.
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