How we give Christmas.

Hanging onto the shirt tails of November, I am anticipating days ahead, December’s festivities already peeking out from the walls of our home. As we handled the hodge-podge of home-made, inherited and memorable gifted ornaments, and strung them over the branches of the tree, I watched as Rowan eyed a sparkling star and looked in wonder at our lighted collage.

A simple thought struck my heart as he fingered that small piece of this season, wondering why his world has gone sparkling— “How will I give them Christmas?”

 

I think of how He has given it to me. That Christmas morn, He birthed such hope, such promise of things yet to come, such joy—and a whole chorus of angels proclaiming peace. My version of chicken scratches filling each calendar box, lofty goals of gifts all homemade, old traditions and new accompanied by dutiful fulfillment was hardly what He came for.

I try desperately to gather the loose ends closer, to pull in what matters and let the rest fall away, and I feel a bit like I’m in the ticket machine at Chucky Cheese. With all the pieces of life blasting around me, I hardly know which bits to grasp at. If onlys fall easily from my thoughts, “If only I could get this house de-cluttered, if only I could have time for each child, one-on-one, if only I could get these piles of laundry away, if only I could clear my thoughts, if only I could have a couple hours alone, if only I could feel rested…”

And then I am face to face again with the question, “How will I give them Christmas?”

Life is imperfect. My scenery behind this season is also imperfect. Yet I think of Christmas’s first backdrop, hardly the setting of a King. And in the midst of the muck, my Savior was born. Nothing about His goodness could be hindered by what this world offered in return. The Christmas I offer to my children has far less to do with how many batches of cookies emerge from my oven, or how many dishes are stacked in my sink; but has everything to do with the humble, dear story of our Savior, born that we too may be born again. Everything to do with peace. For He says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

If my house is imperfect, than let it be a joyful mess, a home filled with life, and lives humbled before Him. If my plans fail, let them not fail to have sought after You as the shepherds did. If I am without peace, than tune my ears to the chorus of angels proclaiming Yours. If I am overwhelmed, let me only be overwhelmed with Your goodness.

How will I give them Christmas?

In simplicity: only to joyfully, humbly, remember the One thing that matters at all-- Jesus. May their picture of Christmas be of a babe in a manger, small and holy, wrapped in swaddling clothes. Of a babe who was, and is, and is to come.