Just Two Minutes Later
I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger and you received me in your homes, naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me, in prison and you visited me. Matthew 25: 35-36 GNB
Every Christmas has a moment—or moments if you are lucky—when the spirit of the season wraps itself around your heart and you feel you have experienced just a little of what Christmas is all about.
Sometimes you have to look hard for that magic moment, dashing between programs and parties, shopping and cooking, errands and work.
On the Saturday before Christmas one year, I helped to staff the Clothes Closet our church operates. The clients who usually come must have been too busy doing errands and everything else, too, because for most of the morning, no one came. That was okay. The other staff person and I decided to go ahead and close up.
We were heading to our cars to go home when a woman drove up. I was a little afraid Jane, in her 80s, wouldn’t be wild about the idea of going back and opening it up again; we were both tired from standing around waiting; both busy with our agendas of things we needed to do yet at home.
But Jane gladly agreed that we should open the Clothes Closet back up, and the woman came in. She was very happy, telling us that she couldn’t come on Wednesday nights when we were also open, because she works evenings. She wanted to get some sweaters—for herself or for gifts, I’m not sure, but I do know that if she had been just a minute or two later, we would have been gone. She would have missed it, and we would have, missed something too: the joy of being there for someone else, just in the sweet “nick” of time.
Have you ever found yourself in just the right place and time at Christmas?
How did it make you feel?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
Our Dreams of Christmas, Versus the Real Picture
The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light.
They lived in a land of shadows,
but now light is shining on them.
3 You have given them great joy,Lord;
you have made them happy.
They rejoice in what you have done. Isaiah 9: 2-3b GNB
In our family photo album there is a picture I’d like to destroy, but instead you see I am sharing it for the world to see! It was taken on Christmas morning when I was 13 or 14, but instead of the idyllic Christmas scene of magazines, what you see is a girl in ratty old p.j.s, (far left), hideous pink curlers complete with a curler net, next to my yawning sister. I am only half awake.
Not exactly the most flattering photo, yet I share it because it graphically reminds me that the reality of Christmas holidays so often fall far short of our romantic projections or remembrances.
- We dream of pleasing our children with the perfect gifts, yet somehow the model we chose isn’t quite right and the kid throws a fit. Or it immediately breaks.
- We dream of being surprised by our spouse with a personal gift instead of a can opener.
- We dream of a lovely table with just right decorations and happy family members: we get folks who want to hurry to see the football game or parades .
- We dream of parents who’ve stopped harping on kids’ faults, and then dismay ourselves by discovering we’re doing the same thing with our own kids.
- We dream of a Christmas program at church that brings smiles or tears to the eyes, but end up with a headache trying to get costumes together.
- We dream of an artfully composed family photo; what we get is family members who don’t want the hassle of dressing up and toddlers who desperately need a nap.
Masters at the art of deluding ourselves, we curl up Christmas night deflated and fatigued.
I wonder if God ever feels the same way.
That first “Christmas” God planned the most wonderful gift the world had ever received: God’s own child. God found the perfect parents: humble, earthy kind of people who wouldn’t let this Divine child go to their heads. And in yet another subtle touch of understated irony, God saw to it that Jesus was born not in a setting fit for a king, but in a cow shed. Perfect, down to the last detail.
But what does the world do but reject this child-man-Jesus, and kill him. But God offers us the chance to have the gift of Jesus live with us anyway, in a spiritual kind of way, if we accept the truth of God’s gift.
Maybe that’s the way to avoid real disillusionment this Christmas. If we know the grace of God in our lives, then we can live with the child who didn’t get the right gift, the dinner that went sour, even the race to eat so people can enjoy games or open gifts. Getting rid of illusions about Christmas helps us deal with the inevitable ups and downs of a busy day stacked with so much anticipation.
May we all experience God’s peace in our preparations and holidays.
***
Sometimes it helps to share our disappointments and holiday disasters.
Any stories you are brave enough to share?
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My story (without the photo) was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
Do You Really Need More Stuff?
Our yard sale advent calendar
For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. 2 Corinthians 8: 9
The year I helped my parents downsize, I had a crash course in dealing with all their accumulated “stuff.” One man at my parents’ auction said, “You know, when I left for college, I put all my stuff in the trunk of my car. When I left college it all fit in two carloads. When I got married, we were able to put all our stuff in a pick-up. When we moved from our apartment, we needed a U-Haul.” And then late in life you need an auction to take care of your accumulated possessions!
You probably have a similar story. But it is worthwhile to note that today kids can hardly go to college with all their stuff in the trunk of a car. Today it takes a van or the back of a truck. What will this generation accumulate by the time they’re 80?
So, while scaling down is sad, and the process of going through stuff stirs up roomfuls of memories, this is part of the rhythm of life, like a tree losing its leaves. It can actually feel good to travel lighter through life. In the end, even the most cherished photo albums won’t go to heaven with us.
I like the tradition of many older folks from my church. As they get ready to move to a retirement facility, they invite us to their home and say, “Take something to remember us by.” In one case, a woman brought me a beautiful casserole dish and said, “Here, I want you to have this.” Another couple picked out a number of things they thought we would like and designated them for us, including some thoughtful and valuable antiques. In another situation we could make donations towards moving expenses if we wanted.
So why do we accumulate and give more stuff every Christmas? Maybe you have some on your list who would actually appreciate a gift given in their honor to their favorite charity (not your favorite). Most elderly parents, instead of any gift, would value much more the gift of time spent with them: either during the holidays, if you live at a distance, or specific plans for a time when you will get together. If you live nearby, setting up a weekly visit might be just the gift your mother would like. Small children too, often would rather have your undivided attention for an evening or a day than just another toy.
Don’t be bashful about passing on gifts that have been given to you that you know you will never use. Take them to a white elephant gift exchange with a group of friends—usually quite a hoot if done in a spirit of fun. Even if you don’t have the energy to be creative and “meaningful” with your entire gift giving, try it with one or two people. You’ll be glad you did. Blogger and family counselor Harvey Yoder wrote recently of being ok with careful regifting, here.
Prayer: Lord, help us to keep our eyes on your gift to the world. Amen.
The Gift
(A short fictional story, perhaps stemming from the many international guests we had in our home including at Christmas.)
And she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. Luke 2: 7
“Mom, Zauditu has no place to go this Christmas,” Penny jabbered in her regular Friday evening call home. Penny’s mother, Diane, was almost as excited about the holidays as Penny. Having her daughter away at school had made an unexpectedly long fall.
“So what are you thinking?” Diane responded.
“Well, that Zauditu should come home with me of course.” Of course! Penny was the little girl who had brought home stray cats and birds with broken wings; it would be natural that Penny would be looking for students from other countries who had no place to go at Christmas.
“Why, sure,” Dave replied immediately. Just like him, Diane thought dourly. He won’t have the extra work.
“Doesn’t Zauditu have anyone else she can go home with?” Diane heard herself asking.
“Why, I suppose so, but I thought it would be fun to have her at our house. You always make Christmas so wonderful!” bubbled Penny.
What should she cook? Would Zauditu like their food? Diane had been so happy to finish her shopping early this year. Now she would have to go out at the last minute, and goodness, what would she buy Zauditu?
“Well, okay.” Diane knew her mild protests were useless. Penny and Dave were so like each other!
“It was so nice of you to invite me to your home,” Zauditu said in near-perfect English when the girls arrived. Zauditu handed Diane a small housewarming gift.
Diane cringed. She had hardly issued an invitation. At least she had been able to find a very nice necklace for Zauditu’s gift.
Penny wanted to show Zauditu all over town, to introduce her to life in the U.S. beyond their own university: the mall, a basketball game at her old high school, the skating rink. Diane hardly knew her daughter was home; she only knew there was a cold hard place in her heart.
The day before Christmas Eve, Penny came down for breakfast by herself. “Zauditu says she just wants to sleep in. Say’s I’m wearing her out!”
“I can’t imagine why!” Diane said curtly.
“Mom,” Penny gasped. “You’re jeal …”
“Just missing you so much,” Diane finished, hugging Penny so she wouldn’t cry.
“Oh Mom, I’m sorry! I miss you too. Really that’s what’s wrong with Zauditu today. She sees you and me and Dad and misses her home very much. She said it was a mistake for her to come, that you wish she wasn’t here.”
Diane sat down. What a silly, ungrateful mother she’d been. She was no better than all the innkeepers who had turned away Mary and Joseph. Didn’t Christmas mean finding room in your heart, to welcome others? “Why don’t we take Zauditu breakfast in bed?” Diane suggested.
“Oh Mom, what a wonderful idea,” Penny hugged her. And Diane marveled once again at all the gifts this child had brought to their lives.
Prayer: Lord, I pray for grace to be open to the gifts that strangers bring us, or the family member in need of your special touch. Amen.
Tired, Hungry, and Treeless
The Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha! You are worried and troubled over so many things, but just one is needed. Mary has chosen the right thing, and it will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10: 41-42
Many years while the kids were in their busy years we had a hard time squeezing in even two hours to go find a Christmas tree. We were old fashioned enough that we wanted it to be a family outing and the tree had to be real. One year the calendar looked so full we literally had to make an appointment and put it on the calendar.
Then Stuart’s company started working overtime. The date arrived and I was in town with our daughters doing late errands and of course this was long before cell phones. We felt high tech to just have an answering machine, with a nifty time stamp. I called at 4:41 p.m., trying to catch Stuart, just in case he had gotten off earlier, and talked to a vacant house. Here’s how the rest of that day went:
4:49 p.m.: Stuart called home, trying to tell us to meet him at the tree place.
4:51: We walked in the door, checked the machine, and found 2 messages from 2 frustrated parents.
5:00: Stuart arrived home and we quickly decided to go anyway, even though Stuart reported that in passing the tree place, it looked like they only had 3 trees left.
It turned out there was only one salable tree; no one liked it. We sped across the county to another cheap place. Darkness was falling fast. They were closed. We went to another grocery store where they sold trees. Those were $14 to $20 for woebegone leftovers (1990s prices). By now we were irritated at each other for being so choosy.
6:00: We were tired, cold, hungry and treeless. It made me think of that Bethlehem traveler and her husband 2000 years earlier who was pregnant, tired and bedless. We headed home. I decided to throw together a pancake and egg supper only to discover I only had half a cup of pancake mix. So I decided to make them from scratch, which took one of the eggs. So I was down to three eggs for 5 people. Oh well, one daughter never wants an egg and I would get by.
6:30: Supper served. Everyone wanted an egg. All pancakes, batter, eggs and a few leftover ham pieces were devoured. I always have leftover pancakes and batter. I exclaimed, “What is going on here?”
Tanya observed pointedly, “Well, did you notice how late it is?” Michelle added, “These homemade pancakes are extra good.”
And suddenly even though some of us were still hungry and we were still treeless, none of it mattered. We were warm, safe, together, and knew the tree would eventually be found. And Christmas would still come to the Davises.
When we are worried and distracted by too much to do, remember the words of Jesus to “choose the better things.”
Do you have an almost-disaster-finding-the-tree story to share?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar. Here is the calendar after one week of adding characters, props, and scenery!
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
We’ve already had the best Christmas presents ever, the best Thanksgiving. As noted here, our first grandchild was born in late September. A great and welcome gift!
Then on November 26, two days before Thanksgiving, our oldest daughter called about 12:30 a.m. She had finally gone into labor about 7:45 the night before, a day after her due date. They were at the hospital two and a half hours away from us. Did I want to come and labor with them?
Did I? Oh my! We had talked about it earlier briefly, but they had never said definitively that they would like that. I had been unfortunately out of town when grandson Sam finally arrived. Who knew if I would ever have another chance to witness a birth?
Sure! They were still in the early stages of labor, I likely had plenty of time to get there. Sleep was gone at that point anyway, so I got up and started packing, taking care of last minute things for the office via e-mail, finishing cleaning for the rest of my family who would arrive later that day for the Thanksgiving holiday, staying calm, and tendering my excitement. I packed my husband’s lunch and headed off into the night about 3:30 a.m.
Arriving at the semi-suburban/urban hospital near dawn, the adrenaline kicked up a notch. Walking the halls following the “Labor and Delivery” signs, seeing women large with child pacing the hall, spying an isolette crib or two: I was ecstatic. I had loved the whole birth experience when we had our three daughters and I felt a rush to be back amid the charged atmosphere.
But my daughter’s labor was progressing at a snail’s pace—not even a snail. (Does a snail slow down, go backwards?) At first she tolerated most contractions just with deep breathing, then pain got stiffer. Things started hurting. Three to four hours went by. My son-in-law and I alternated lunch times. I read, got on their laptop, made phone calls, answered phone calls. No news yet?
The doctor measured progress. Only one more centimeter gained. Some sixteen hours of labor and only one more centimeter than when she got to the hospital. Although she had not planned or wanted an epidural, she finally asked for one. The intensity of pain eased up. She was able to rest up. Her husband got a much needed nap. I paced and checked the contraction monitor. Through it all the baby’s heartbeat was robust; there did not appear to be any reason to be concerned about how he was handling it. He was fine. Just taking his time. Within a couple more hours, she was fully dilated.
By 6:15 p.m., the splendid nurses working with us suggested my daughter try pushing. And so it began, the real labor where we were all needed. After learning how to really give pushing all she had, we held legs, helped support her from the back through three long pushes for each contraction while the nurse counted slow … ly to ten. I found myself involuntarily pushing just as hard with my own abdominal muscles.
As a mother, you do all you can to help your child but this was one thing my daughter truly had to do herself. After each push, she rested. I fetched ice chips, applied Chapstick. Husband put cold compresses on her sweaty forehead. The nurse kept a positive chatter going, but there really wasn’t much progress. Contractions slowed to six minutes a part. A small amount of Picotin was added to pick up the pace of contractions. Real progress still evaded us.
By 9:30 p.m. or so, the doctor began discussing options. A C-section wasn’t needed, the baby seemed fine. But he had to have help getting out. They could use suction, a hand pumped device by a skillful doctor with a small suction cup applied to the head. Oh my! Decisions had to be made quickly. Was there a chance of skull or brain damage? Not on this doctor’s watch, ever, but he admitted that yes, it did happen.
Making a rapid decision in pain and stress and after laboring over 24 hours and knowing the baby has to somehow come out, you make the best decision you can. My son-in-law knew his wife was nearing exhaustion, beyond frustration. He didn’t want anything to happen to her, either. They gave the go ahead. The nurse said a team from the emergency room or operating room would come in to accompany and check the baby over immediately after birth. It was routine, they always did this when a suction cup was used. That was reassuring but also alarming: what if?
Then in a rush the baby’s head finally, gloriously appeared. I got my first glimpse of this new grandson. “His name is James,” my son-in-law announced. I practically crowed! Good name! Short, easy to say! I probably would have said the same thing if he had been named Thantatheopulis. The fancied up digital scales officially weighed him in at 8 lb 6 oz.
I looked over the almost-plumped-up squirming child, squalling at first, heartily, slightly blue, then rapidly getting pink as he got more air. His little eyes peered all around, checking out this new world! He was taken to the warming table, wiped off. I followed watching the process while the obstetrician sewed up my daughter on the other side of the room. “He has beautiful lips! His hair is a light brown like yours! He looks great, perfect,” I reassured them.
I was crazy grandma gone wild. The top of his head looked a mess, but they hadn’t wiped it off yet. I left the room a good long while to make some calls. I knew the baby and parents needed alone time, bonding time. I sat in the refreshment kitchen breathing my thankfulness to God and the blessed doctors and nurses who had been so helpful and kind and seemed just as charged by the excitement, even though they did this many many times a day. I hoped James would be all right. Surely they would have whisked him off to neonatal intensive care or somewhere if there had been any indication of problem or issue.
When I went back into the room, baby James was lying on my daughter’s chest, skin to skin which is so lovely and important. At that point his eyes had stopped roving all around the room. His ear was pinned to her chest, heart beating on heart. It was so obvious he was tuned into that heart beating just like he had heard for nine months in the womb. This was a sound he knew. This was home.
Waiting to be discharged on Thanksgiving Day.
Welcome baby James.
***
My daughter wrote about “being second” to have a baby in our family earlier this year in a guest column for Another Way.
Unscripted Moments: The Little Shepherd Boy
The shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. Luke 2: 15-16
The little shepherd boy had refused to take a nap that day, his mother told me later. His father, a drama teacher at a local middle school, was the main character at our church’s Christmas Eve service. Three-year-old Andrew was the little shepherd boy.
But about half way through the drama, Andrew’s eyelids began to droop. The father, well versed in ad-libbing, said, “You must be getting tired. Sit on my lap and I’ll finish the story.”
Andrew climbed into his shepherd-dad’s lap and the drama went on. But his head began to nod and then jerk awake. I thought, “This little boy really is a great actor because he sure looks believable.”
By this time most everyone in the front of the church had caught on that yes, Andrew was really and truly falling asleep on stage, and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do. There were titters and finally even dad broke character and suppressed a chuckle. Afterwards, people said that if there were any little shepherd boys really out helping watch the sheep on that big night, they very well might have fallen asleep.
It was the highlight of the whole Christmas Eve service. Somehow it is always the unplanned, unscripted moments that bring serendipity. Maybe it is how God breaks through to us when we have a set idea of how things should go, of how we should live our lives.
I’m sure Mary was not thrilled with her unplanned moments, either, when Gabriel announced her pregnancy. She must have been mortified. But, after a few awkward moments, she responded, “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it happen as you have said.”
Prayer: Lord, I pray that I will be open to all that you have in store for me this season. Let it happen to me as you will. Amen.
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Comment: What is your favorite unscripted moment from a Christmas play or pageant or other program?
Find out more about the wonderful little church family where this occurred here.
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
Tropical Palm
What to Do When There are Too Many Places to Go
There were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his disciples didn’t even have time to eat. So he said to them, “Let us go off by ourselves to some place where we will be alone and you can rest a while.” Mark 6:31
Christmas and children go together, but once they get to age five and up you can run yourself ragged keeping up with their special events and activities during the early days of December. I well remember when our children were spaced out in elementary, middle and high school, and we had choir and band programs for all three schools, Christmas parades and tree lighting ceremonies, as well as individual music recitals. The going was constant.
One year I even drove 100 miles each way to help my daughter and her cohorts get from their drama festival competition to tryouts for district choir all before 8 a.m. I was telling that story to my hairdresser when another hairdresser talked about rushing from one ballgame to the next, taking in only parts of each in order to put in a little appearance as needed.
We all do (or have done) these things, but maybe it is okay to say, “I don’t have to go to everything you are in. I will come to so many games or recitals, but there are things I need to do, too.” (The kids may not care as much as you think, and they’ll get used to it.)
There is probably no better time of year to hear this message then December. Sure, you want to be there for your kids. You want to see when they sing, play, dance, or score that goal. There will be things you will miss. But it won’t be the end of the world, as long as you and they know that you love and support them. Don’t feel guilty about not going to everything that is on the calendar.
During these Advent days of waiting and watching for Christmas, take some time to just let something go. Cancel a committee meeting, or take off from work early. Grab some time to just relax, unwind, and enjoy Christmas. Take some time just to be, for inner harmony. Find a palm tree (figuratively, in the North) and breath deeply.
As Doris Janzen Longacre wrote as she was dying of cancer at the age of 39, “Life is too short to worry about getting ready for Christmas. Just let Christmas come.”
How do you deal with an overloaded schedule in December?
What have you skipped? Any memorable stories?
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The photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar. Next week I’ll add a picture of the actual calendar so you can see how this thing comes together. Sign up to follow the blog so you don’t miss any!
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Parts of this reflection first appeared as an editorial in the magazine Living, which I serve as editor.
Huzzah! A King is Born
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” Matthew 2: 1-2
Ever since our daughter, as a freshman at the College of William and Mary in Colonial Williamsburg, Va., first experienced the “Grand Illumination” (first weekend in December every year) she wanted us to come. (For more details on the celebrations and great photos, visit this blogger.)
Her senior year, we finally went. The village was indeed enchanting: costumed workers from Colonial Williamsburg lit bright pitch pine fires in iron bowls on poles known as “cressets.” The cressets once served as the town’s only streetlights. Smoke curled up in the night air. It was easy to imagine Thomas Jefferson or Patrick Henry scuttling off to some meeting or tavern.
From the stage near the location where we were standing, the master of ceremonies explained that the idea of a Grand Illumination came from long ago times when a king would have a fireworks display at the birth of a new king. It was a way for ordinary working people to celebrate extraordinary events. The master of ceremonies added, “And this is a Grand Illumination for the birthday of the King of Kings!”—an unmistakable reference to the birthday of Jesus. It was a holy moment of harmony, finding the sacred on the town square.
I quickly glanced around me. This was your typical secular crowd of townspeople, tourists, college students. 30 to 50,000 were celebrating the birth of Jesus. I batted back a tear: Yes, happy birthday, King of Kings! I’m told that sometimes the crowd is coaxed into yelling “Huzzah!” which in colonial times was a way of saying “Hooray!”
Sometimes we wonder if it appropriate to still keep Christmas as a Christian holiday. Each family can decide how to handle Santa, but make sure children know it all started with baby Jesus.
Huzzah!
Prayer: I pray that I will keep my adoration and focus on you, King of Kings! Hooray!
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Have you ever suddenly became aware of the sacred within the secular, at Christmas or any other time? Have you had a goose bump moment at Christmas?
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My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
***
This story was first published in my regular syndicated weekly newspaper column, Another Way, see www.thirdway.com/aw (which can be used in any local paper; email me for details).
The chicken at the manger
A Not-So-Perfect Family
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:19 KJV
(For the complete story, use Bible Gateway.)
You don’t get a lot of Christmas cards featuring chickens, but pretend you are the “chicken on the roost”* in the cave getting a glimpse of a young woman and a man who enter. They look kind of stressed and the woman very very “with child,” likely moaning.
Back story, which we thread together from scripture. Mary is pregnant and unmarried. Think her parents were happy? Good Joseph stays engaged to her anyway, surely under the scorn of his family and friends. Then they have to travel when she is almost due, on a donkey, to take care of … taxes. Oh joy. Most of us today would have complained plenty. The “Holy” couple” gets to Bethlehem, and there is no motel. Anywhere. I’m sure Mary knows it is not Joe’s fault but if she is human she’s gotta be gritting through her teeth “Why did he make me come anyway?”
They find a stable, likely in a cave. Again, Mary may be from a different century, but she has lived in a home, not with the cows. That surely had to be more stress. Then Jesus is born. But the stress is hardly over. Too soon there is the late night trip to Egypt, to escape a King who wants to kill their baby, and succeeds in killing other parents’ little boy babies. This knowledge had to have been a very bitter pill to swallow too. Since we know how the story turns out, we know that eventually Jesus dies the death of a political criminal on a wooden cross. My mother’s heart breaks with Mary’s.
The birth of Jesus is not all sweetness and light. We are not alone in the agony and suffering we go through in this life. Mary and Joseph have been there. Jesus has been there. God is there, with us, no matter what happens.
Can it be? In our messy, imperfect families? In families rocked by an unwanted pregnancy, and differing opinions on how to respond?
A video you may have seen, but bears repeating at this time of year, brings Mary and “Joe’s” dilemma home:
I hope these reflections help bring deep peace this holiday season, even if it is not Christmas-card perfect.
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Although not pleasant to recall, when was a time you or your family experienced sadness, loneliness, or difficulty at Christmas? How does that experience speak to you this Advent season?
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Parts of this reflection first appeared as an editorial in the magazine Living, which I serve as editor. The Winter 2013 edition has just been published with the story of one family’s worst possible pain which happened last Christmas. You can find it here.
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* My photos each day in this Advent series feature figures from a handmade advent calendar I picked up long ago at a yard sale. It quickly became the kids’ favorite, and a permanent addition to our Advent collection and celebrations. I hope you enjoy watching the parade of characters on this virtual advent calendar.
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