I don’t know
about you, but every year goes by faster than the year before, cliché but true.
This year I can say with certainty I did not get all my Christmas stuff put
away before I took it out again. A few items have been in a corner all year.
Maybe this year I’ll leave it all up!
I love this
time of year. It’s the lights and the music I love the most. Days in the
Pacific Northwest can be so dark and dreary. All the holiday lights brighten us
up for a month. And there is nothing like Christmas music, secular and sacred.
I can’t get enough and have way too many holiday albums.
I decorate,
throw a couple of parties and host Christmas for my family. It keeps me hopping
from task to task, and sometimes over shadows why I’m doing all this in the
first place. It’s hard to keep sane at Christmas. We have all our normal
activity, and on top add decorating, extra cooking, shopping, extra evenings
out, and entertaining. No wonder we collapse and sometimes forget to put it all
away.
For my
family, this year is different. We will be absent my sister, who passed away in
February, and we just lost our beloved aunt the day before Thanksgiving. Grief
on grief is a heavy load. You can feel like you are weighted down, and your
brains have been replaced by cotton batting. What was it I was just doing with
these scissors?
I remember
sitting on the steps in our home at the end of Christmas 22 years ago. In that
year my husband and I lost my mother, both of his parents, and my grandfather.
My mom died right after New Year’s. Talk about December not being put away. His
dad and my grandfather died on the same day in early November. We were not sure
what Christmas would bring. It was the first year for me to take on hosting. I
wanted to make it special because we’d lost so much that year. At the end of
the day, alone on the stairs, we cried and reflected over the day and the
absences. The biggest revelation was that we’d had a joyous day, laughter,
tears, good food, fun; we had fun, a miracle, considering our year.
But isn’t that
what Christmas is, a miracle? God became a man and lived among us. God came near,
Emmanuel, God with us. He came, not as a King or splendid dignitary. He came as
a baby, born in a stable because there was room nowhere else. He came to show
us what relationships with God could truly be. He came to die for us, so we
could experience that relationship with Him for eternity. Christmas reminds us
of how much God loves us. The lights and the music, the beauty remind us of His
beauty, and light and song. The gathering of family reminds us of the
relationship He desires to have with us. The sharing of gifts reminds us of the
greatest gift, Himself.
This
Christmas we are fewer, down to the siblings, and now missing one of us as
well. More of us are in heaven than here, our aunt being the newest to
celebrate eternal Christmas. It casts a different perspective. Every Christmas
since I lost my mom, I remember her, and at some point have a good cry. She
made Christmas so very special for her children. We had magical holidays at the
snowy base of Mt. Hood. For my first 13 years I had a white Christmas. Mom
combined lights, music, food and special gifts, put together with very little
money, to make memorable days. Dad added his own fun. He always bought his own
stocking gifts and signed them “Santa”. He also provided our yearly reading of
the Christmas story, with his personal annotations as he read along. I’ve kept
this tradition and some others from our childhood.
Our pastor
brought up a lovely picture from Scripture. At the birth of Jesus there was no
room for him. And that is still the case in many hearts and minds today. Our
culture has taken the holiday and made it anything but a celebration of
Christ’s birth. Even Christians get so busy they lose sight of Christ. Yet,
even though we often have no room for Him, He has room for us. Before His
crucifixion, Jesus shared with the disciples that He was going away, and would
be preparing a place for them, and all who trust Him. (John 14) In that place
there are many rooms, an abundance of room, room enough for everyone. My
parents, and grandparents, parents in-law, my sister and my aunt and
uncle are all sharing those rooms as I write. There was a place prepared for
them. There is one for me too. Do you have a reservation?
“O come to my heart Lord Jesus,
there’s room in my heart for thee.”
