Ah, the glory of the holiday season. This is the time when families gather around warm fires and sip hot cocoa--not the instant kind you nuke with water but the old-fashioned kind you make with milk warmed on the stove. Stockings are hung with care and trees are trimmed while carols are being sung. Children's cheeks are rosy from sledding, and good cheer fills the heart and home.
Until, of course, Mom has a meltdown over the never-ending shopping list filled with people she has no idea what to get and Dad throws the Christmas lights on the floor, unable to find the defective bulb that's holding the whole strand hostage. Like a bad thriller movie featuring the sweet guy who turns into a demented killer, Christmas cheer transforms into holiday hell.
It's all fun and games until someone gets poked in the eye.
Here's my personal interpretation of the hectic life: Its job is to build constructive attention. What are you paying attention to? To hear the quiet whisper of truth in a rock-band-volume life takes great discipline and nerves of steel.
Your work demands that same steely discipline. For me, that discipline is not a display of brute force, in which I push myself to do certain tasks. Instead, it takes the form of...
May you use your time to support that which is most important to you. 
