It’s December 13th.
Twelve days until Christmas.
Plenty of time.
Plenty of time to get the shopping done.
Plenty of time to wrap the gifts.
Plenty of time to trim the tree and mail the cards and bake the
cookies.
Don’t panic, my friends. There is
plenty of time.
I know how it goes. We hustle and bustle all month long.
We rush around in a flurry, here, there, and everywhere. Our minds race with all that must be
done. The commitments pile up and the
lists grow longer and we wake up in a cold sweat fretting about whether we’re on
track to accomplish all that we need to accomplish to pull this thing off.
Did we remember to move the elf?
Did we remember to read the Jesse tree devotional? Did we remember to put a treat in the advent
calendar? Did we actually order that
gift for our mother-in-law, or did we just dream that we did?
It’s okay. Christmas is busy. We try to get things done early, but it’s
tough to put much of a dent in the responsibilities that go along with making
this much magic in a single month. There
are expectations this time of year – BIG ones – and most of them fall on us
moms.
In addition to the myriad of roles we play every other day of the year -
you know the ones – nurse, cook, housekeeper, chauffer, psychologist, rule
enforcer, wife (that usually does seem to come in last, doesn’t it?), in
December, we add a slew of duties to this mama position that can make our heads
spin.
We do the planning and the decorating and the shopping and the baking and
the surprising. We create the cards and
order the cards and stuff the cards and address the cards and stamp the cards and mail the
cards. We rack our brains to come up
with the perfect gifts for everyone in the family and fuss about how much money
we’ve spent to make everyone we love feel equally special. We plan school celebrations and ornament
exchanges and tacky sweater parties. We
cut and tape and tie and hide packages in places we might never find them again,
and y’all, at six o’clock this morning I was using the tip of my pinky
finger to spread Nutella on the tiny mouth of our elf, because, ya know, that
sneaky little fella got into the candy jar last night while we are all sleeping
lying awake trying to think of new elf tricks.
It’s okay.
Christmas is hard and I’m tired too.
My body shifted into overdrive the second we put away the pumpkin pie and
my brain is turning to eggnog as I try to fulfill all the requests and
requirements that go along with the biggest holiday of the year.
But it’s okay. I won’t get it all done and I won’t get it all right. I will forget to send someone a card. I will burn a batch of gingerbread cookies. I will get him the wrong color and her the wrong size and I will worry about presents when the whole thing . . . the whole month . . . our whole life . . . is all about His presence.
I will screw up this Christmas because I am a mess, and isn’t it funny
how He came? Not in a royal palace,
surrounded by the splendid majesty he deserved.
No. He came in a barn. He came in the middle of the dirt and the
muck and the animals and the mess.
He came to be human, and the barn was the perfect place for him to enter
the world, because it wasn’t perfect. A king born in a messy barn was exactly the right
setting, because he wants to settle himself in our mess. He wants to settle in our messy hearts and
stay forever.
So don’t panic, my friends. Enjoy
this Advent season. Enjoy the hustling
and the bustling and the extra obligations.
Enjoy the rushing and the racing and the added commitments. Amid your shopping and wrapping and celebrating, feel the comfort he provides. Feel the peace he brings. Feel the hope he offers. Feel his light and love envelop your soul as he settles deep within, content to stay as long as you let him.
There is plenty of time to get ready for Christmas.
There is plenty of time to get ready for His coming.
Because He’s already here.
