There is a voice somewhere deep inside that says, "This could be the very best Christmas of all time." It whispers, "This is the one they are going to remember, give way to it... Let it happen."
Towards the end of summer we had a flood in our home, our refrigerators waterline came free one night while we were away. We opened the front door to step into an inch of water throughout the main living area of our home. Three months later we are still working on new flooring, making time for installation between precious hours of the rest of "life's requirements".
Some have chastised us for doing this on our own, not calling "someone in" to "get it done" but... That's not my husband's style and he is really good with his hands. We are ok with the time it takes... Until it encroaches on Christmas. This upheaval sends my brain into a level of bat----crazy I can't even describe. I'd like one more week... Just one, however, the season doesn't stop simply because ones home is full of tools and construction dust. Christmas comes anyway... Even if all of ones furniture is piled together like a Tetris game in the only seating area of the house - Christmas still comes.
I lamented during a phone call with my mom a week or so ago... "I just don't think we will put a tree up this year. It's all too much..." Her response was something other than I cared to hear, "What about the children, what if this is the last year they believe in Santa. Is this how you want them to remember this year?" Not one of her finer moments... And in my own - not so great moment, I reminded her that Christmas isn't about Santa or trees anyway. I must admit her words stung... Stung the hard sting of any mom who has ever held traditions close, wanting perfect moments... The perfect gift, perfect family picture, perfect Christmas cookies passed down from generation to generation. This year, I know I am falling short. If only I listed to my own indignant words, Christmas isn't about any of that.
What are we left with instead... My own broken heart for this one Christmas. One measly Christmas not so perfect. Not so wrapped up in a neat little bow... Not so what I imagine...
Christmas comes anyway.
My words, my actions... My heart reflects this broken Christmas season.
Yet, in my poor - pitiful moment I am reminded that somewhere a momma is minus one precious baby for the first time. Somewhere a family celebrates the season and welcomes it in, despite missing Mom - in heaven. Somewhere a sweet grandmother misses her long time love, past 10 years of lonely Christmas'... And I am upset, crushed in spirit and carrying it with me - evidenced in everything I do.
My soul is disappointed... In myself. It quietly calls to me... Reminding me... The true meaning of Christmas. If I dare let it in, let it come anyway... So, yes... The Christmas decorations are up, in cleared away areas of our home. Our essential traditions are celebrated and remembered. Grace was found for the cards and cookies never completed and out of all this some new ones were born...
And a flicker to a celebration long ago. A Mom riding into town on a donkey; A baby born with no place to lay his head. A new mother and father... Just half a decade older than my kids are now, welcoming a new baby for the first time... And not just any baby - but One... One waited for, prophesied about, the One searched for... One anticipated; One hunted for his head... He came anyway... Thank God, He came anyway. He came for not just one broken day but a thousand broken days for all time and eternity. He came with hope and promise. He came to bridge, once and for all, the gap between eternity with Him and eternity away from Him. He came... And Christmas comes...Glorious Christmas comes - Jesus comes.
Towards the end of summer we had a flood in our home, our refrigerators waterline came free one night while we were away. We opened the front door to step into an inch of water throughout the main living area of our home. Three months later we are still working on new flooring, making time for installation between precious hours of the rest of "life's requirements".
Some have chastised us for doing this on our own, not calling "someone in" to "get it done" but... That's not my husband's style and he is really good with his hands. We are ok with the time it takes... Until it encroaches on Christmas. This upheaval sends my brain into a level of bat----crazy I can't even describe. I'd like one more week... Just one, however, the season doesn't stop simply because ones home is full of tools and construction dust. Christmas comes anyway... Even if all of ones furniture is piled together like a Tetris game in the only seating area of the house - Christmas still comes.
I lamented during a phone call with my mom a week or so ago... "I just don't think we will put a tree up this year. It's all too much..." Her response was something other than I cared to hear, "What about the children, what if this is the last year they believe in Santa. Is this how you want them to remember this year?" Not one of her finer moments... And in my own - not so great moment, I reminded her that Christmas isn't about Santa or trees anyway. I must admit her words stung... Stung the hard sting of any mom who has ever held traditions close, wanting perfect moments... The perfect gift, perfect family picture, perfect Christmas cookies passed down from generation to generation. This year, I know I am falling short. If only I listed to my own indignant words, Christmas isn't about any of that.
What are we left with instead... My own broken heart for this one Christmas. One measly Christmas not so perfect. Not so wrapped up in a neat little bow... Not so what I imagine...
Christmas comes anyway.
My words, my actions... My heart reflects this broken Christmas season.
Yet, in my poor - pitiful moment I am reminded that somewhere a momma is minus one precious baby for the first time. Somewhere a family celebrates the season and welcomes it in, despite missing Mom - in heaven. Somewhere a sweet grandmother misses her long time love, past 10 years of lonely Christmas'... And I am upset, crushed in spirit and carrying it with me - evidenced in everything I do.
My soul is disappointed... In myself. It quietly calls to me... Reminding me... The true meaning of Christmas. If I dare let it in, let it come anyway... So, yes... The Christmas decorations are up, in cleared away areas of our home. Our essential traditions are celebrated and remembered. Grace was found for the cards and cookies never completed and out of all this some new ones were born...
And a flicker to a celebration long ago. A Mom riding into town on a donkey; A baby born with no place to lay his head. A new mother and father... Just half a decade older than my kids are now, welcoming a new baby for the first time... And not just any baby - but One... One waited for, prophesied about, the One searched for... One anticipated; One hunted for his head... He came anyway... Thank God, He came anyway. He came for not just one broken day but a thousand broken days for all time and eternity. He came with hope and promise. He came to bridge, once and for all, the gap between eternity with Him and eternity away from Him. He came... And Christmas comes...Glorious Christmas comes - Jesus comes.
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