Merry Christmas!

I had the most beautiful Christmas. There were enough (but not too many) gifts, my loved ones were around me, the food was yummy, the fun was fun, and IT SNOWED!!! The kids let us sleep in until 7:30am, and it was all just inexpressibly good, scrumptious.

But the best gift I received this year was Christmas itself. I've had an outlook that really didn't "get" Christmas. It's my understanding that Jesus wasn't really born around December 25, but that we celebrate it at that time because some invaded pagan country already had a holiday then so it got glued there. God never said to celebrate Christmas with or without a tree or gifts or anything--he did set up holidays and a feast system, but we ignore those. Jesus offers us a desperately needed gift of eternal life, at great cost. The gifts we exchange are not much needed or worth much. I like singing songs, being with friends and family, giving gifts and eating yummy food but I didn't really see what the celebration had to do with my relationship with God.

Christmas is different for me this year. We watched The Nativity Story on Christmas eve or so, and I am changed. I was so caught up in the drama of their lives--oppressed, desperate for the Messiah to come and do something about it. And what does God do? Make a girl's life even more miserable? And yet blessed. He lays a huge burden on her, and then blesses her with the understanding of Elizabeth, and then Joseph. What a huge comfort it must have been for Mary to have people who knew the truth about the child she carried.

I was outraged that God would ask Mary and Joseph to go through that. It's more than a person should have to bear. I feel that he may ask me to live beyond what I can bear also. Then I realized what it cost God, and how needed it was. The tiny, vulnerable, poor baby, susciptible to cold, disease, violence, neglect. Bereft of the gift of speech, the mind of a child. Which of my kids would willingly wind their ages back, and quit their privileges and abilities--to be un-potty trained, to be dressed by another, etc. And yet God, the creator--the one that made the world--laid down his power and abilities to be this tiny baby, at the bottom of the social scale. Why? Because the situation was desperate. He put it off as long as he could, and he slipped in the Answer in the most painfree way he could, but when there is a huge problem, the Answer is disruptive.

The incarnation is Huge. It's tender, and miraculous, the advent of our hope. Who can fathom God? When his people cry out for a military leader to throw off the invaders, he gives a sin sacrifice to deal with their sins--and allows them to be scattered, Jerusalem smashed. And yet he made a way to be IN us that we may never be alone, and draws us together to endure what must be for the death and rebirth of creation.

Anyway, when Mary held out that little baby to show hope to both the shepherds and the kings, I realized what a treasure she held, what we received so silently that night--it wasn't on the news, most people had no idea nor cared what was going on. God is good. I will keep Christmas in memory of the incarnation. It slays me, cuts me to the quick, to have such a terrible and tender Father. If I get to celebrate another Christmas, I will remember what it cost, and what it's worth.

Confessions of an Underachiever

Whew, time for wind down. I haven't been writing on here, because my brain hasn't been able to form complete thoughts for two weeks. I've tried to cook a frozen roast in less than hour, put my contacts in the wrong eyes twice, and generally been stumbling around trying to keep all the balls in the air. We attended two or three Thanksgiving feasts with the accompanying bring alongs of both food and folks, I started and finished my Christmas shopping (small budget abbreviated that), went to the last homeschool coop day (taught computer programming, paper art and Bird Biology to various ages) and the evening performance that goes with it, spent time with my visiting sister, I pulled off a surprise party for two of my kids, and got my lego robotics team pulled together for their local competition, and survived it all. (They won, by the way, so it's on to State.) I kept the house together through all that with food on the table and clean clothes in the drawers, and now I feel like that balloon that you let go and it flies all over the room until it lands, spent.

I am realizing that HERE is where I lose it: all my many activities have played out, I have the mess of all of it left here, and I'm exhausted and feeling entitled to a break. But living with junk in my way and unable to find things isn't a break. I had the energy to do all that, I can put away five boxes of stuff that is pulled out, spend 40 minutes finishing Christmas decorations. I don't want another marathon over Christmas. But I'm hosting a gathering or two--I love hosting. But that should be easier than hauling a car load of supplies, right?

The other thing that is laying on the floor of my heart is the dissatisfaction of none of that ever being enough--the party wasn't exactly what my kids were hoping, the Christmas gifts aren't the best ever, we won the tournament but in a scrambled and sideways fashion, I kept the house together but screamed at the kids. My husband is glad the house is clean, but it doesn't make his life all better. I am glad I took at stab at those things, and I tried to manage them all the best I could, but it really isn't enough. I am in dreadful need of Grace. All that stuff is fun, but it isn't the heart. We--I--need to have the inner space to think, to connect, to listen and perceive.

Seems like I need balance. It is good for me, good for my children, to have the experiences that only come when you go out and try to do things in the world--make robots, compete, have parties, take classes, etc. But we also need the quiet to reflect, process, refill. These last few weeks have just been too, too much for me. I need to look ahead better next time so that my season doesn't fill with so much. And I need to take my rest in sips not gulps now.