Ever found yourself in a moment so beautiful it’s bittersweet? That was me, sitting in a cozy photo booth surrounded by laughter and Christmas cheer, battling a subtle yet familiar emotion—resentment.

I’ve made tremendous emotional progress over the years, but every now and then, a negative seed takes root. Fed by frustration or disappointment, it grows into resentment. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, the battle is real.

Recently, a life-changing realization came from the most unlikely source: Siri.

“Siri,” I asked one day, “what’s the opposite of resentment?”

“Contentment,” she replied.

That single word shifted my perspective almost immediately. From that moment on, I started choosing contentment whenever resentment came knocking.

A Christmas Concert Lesson

Just last week, I performed at a small Baptist church nestled in the countryside. The sanctuary, with its arched wooden beams and grand piano, felt like a Christmas card brought to life. Families gathered for a potluck dinner before the concert, and the fellowship hall was a hub of energy—kids laughing, parents chatting, and decorations that sparkled with winter charm.

One corner featured a photo booth with a wooden bench, reindeer, and a sprinkling of fake snow. It was adorable.

Someone invited me to have my photo taken. But I felt a twinge of loneliness and didn’t want my picture taken sitting on a bench made for a family.

My husband was home sick. I didn’t have children to share moments like this with. Watching other families pose for pictures, I felt that familiar pang of resentment creeping in.

But I smiled and said, “Sure – I’d love for you to snap a picture of me”, as I handed them my phone.

I smiled, hoped I looked OK, and retrieved my phone, making my way over to the food line. Nothing like food to provide a distraction.

As I enjoyed the potluck dinner—carefully selecting small portions from the buffet of tempting treats so I could sample just about everything—that sense of loneliness and resentment kept circling back, like a pesky fruit fly that just wouldn’t leave me alone. I knew I needed a plan of attack. So I paused and asked myself: What could I be content about in this moment?

I started listing:

• I’m 58 and still singing, meeting incredible people, and sharing music with audiences despite the ongoing challenges of being a freelance musician in a post-COVID world.
• I was having rich conversations with fellow musicians in the crowd—something I never expected to find in a small country church.
• I was savoring the most amazing homemade truffles, crafted by a kind young mom named Hannah. (My hostess for the evening had become a sleuth, asking everyone who brought a food item if they were the ones who brought the truffles that the guest musician was raving about. When she found and pointed Hannah out, I couldn’t resist seeking her out to compliment her work—and maybe get the recipe.) She was happy to share what she called a “simple” way to make them.

Later, as I watched Hannah setting up her family for a photo, inspiration struck. My plan of escape from loneliness now revealed itself to me! I walked over and asked, “Can I crash your family photo? I’d love to be part of a family tonight—would you mind if I joined you?”

After all, she had just shared her recipe with me, and her warm, approachable nature made it easy to ask. Why not let her family be mine, just for the night?

We laughed, posed, and had the best time. Her little boy couldn’t stop staring at my sparkly outfit, making the moment even more delightful.

That one choice—to embrace connection over comparison—completely transformed my evening.

A Practice for the Holidays

This holiday season, I’m committed to practicing contentment. Resentment may try to steal the joy, but with a simple shift in perspective, I’ve learned that I can reclaim it.

Next time you feel resentment rising, pause. Acknowledge it. Then ask yourself: What can I be content about right now?

A Sweet Surprise

P.S. If I ever had a daughter, I wanted to name her Hannah. You can imagine the wave of emotion that swept over me when they introduced me to a beautiful girl named Hannah. The fact that she can make THE most incredible truffles I’ve ever had endeared her to me even more.

I knew we were destined to be friends. She shared the recipe with me, which she claims is quite easy—but time will tell when I make my own batch this season.

About Frances Drost

Frances Drost is a singer-songwriter, speaker, and author with a passion for helping others find hope and inspiration through life’s challenges. Her new Barnes & Noble Bestseller, Portraits of White: Hope and Inspiration for Those Who Struggle with the Holidays, weaves together heartfelt stories, music, and personal reflections to guide readers toward a more meaningful and joyful season.

With over two decades of experience in music and storytelling, Frances blends authenticity with artistry, offering relatable insights for anyone navigating grief, loneliness, or the complexities of holiday traditions.

Discover more of Frances’ inspiring journey—and practical tips for overcoming holiday struggles—in Portraits of White, available now wherever books are sold.

P.S. Sorry—no truffles for sale. I have to try them out first! 😊