Permission to Check Out

I’m sitting in a hotel room in Nashville, Tennessee with about 45 minutes left before I have to check out and head for the airport. And once I get home from this trip, I’m done traveling for the year. And I’m ready. I’m ready to be home. I’m ready to slow down. I’m ready to “check out.”

And I thought maybe you might need permission today to do the same.

So here it goes.

I give you permission to slow down.
I give you permission to rest.
I give you permission to enjoy your entire cup of coffee before rushing into the day.
I give you permission to turn off Facebook and turn on Christmas carols.
I give you permission to say no to #allthethings.
I give you permission to watch the snow fall.
I give you permission to let someone else cook the turkey this year.
I give you permission to order your Christmas cards instead of hand making them.
I give you permission to say “thanks but no thanks”.

I give you permission to “check out.”

Now that might seem silly, because of course you don’t need my permission to do any of those things; but oftentimes seeing another person make a choice triggers in us the courage we need to make that choice for ourselves.

Last year between December 4, 2015 and March 27, 2016 I didn’t post a single time to Instagram. For 17 weeks I flat-out checked out. Instagram had shifted from an enjoying pastime to an obsessive drain. I let my concern for follows, unfollows and double taps take up too much time and energy and once I realized it, I made the conscious effort to lay it down. To check out.

But maybe for you it’s not Instagram, it’s Facebook. Or maybe it’s over scheduling playdates or holiday parties. If you feel like you’re drowning in #allthethings… then it’s time to intentionally lay some things down.

And as you decide what to check out of, you’ll find your capacity to “check in” to other things will increase.

I give you permission to check in to your spouse.
I give you permission to check in to your kids.
I give you permission to check in to preparing your heart for the Advent season.
I give you permission to check in to writing a handwritten note to a friend.
I give you permission to check in to a second cup of tea in the morning.
I give you permission to check in to the stack of books on your nightstand.
I give you permission to check in to who you are at your core.

Again, you don’t need my permission, but my prayer for you is that as the holiday season wraps us in, we would find ourselves not wrapped up in all the things, but in the best of things.

Look at the clock, it’s time for me to check out.