The After

We waited and it came and He came and it’s over and I’m . . .

Okay. 

Strange, how it always used to bring on sadness, the end of the Christmas season.  It used to feel so final, like it was simply a beginning and an end and 335 long days until it all came again.  I once dreaded the day after, when the enthusiasm of it all was over and there was no more anticipation for what would be.  

Strange, how adulthood changes everything, with no exception for Christmas.  Christmas, in fact, shines a blaring light on the transformation that occurs with age and maturity, as we go from waiting on Santa to becoming Santa to explaining Santa.

He knew the truth this year.  Said something about the Easter bunny last spring and when he did, he used his ten year-old fingers to make air quotes in the sky.  We were shocked, but not devastated.  Amused, but not annoyed.  Truthfully, I found some relief in discussing reality with my son.  It felt important, this exchange between parent and child, a way to cement our relationship in honesty.  It encouraged me to embrace the fact that time marches on, while allowing me to explain to Charlie that there is only one person I care about him believing in, and He doesn’t deliver baskets of eggs or fill stockings with presents.

Christmas was different this year, and not just because I'm pushing forty and there has been no denial of adulthood for quite some time.  There was less magic, less mystery for our family now that the oldest knows the truth and the youngest is more than a little suspicious.  Yet I am grateful for the changes, as the receding magic and mystery seemed to give way to something much better . . . more meaning.

I think that’s why Christmas is over and I’m okay.  Because Christmas as an adult and a mother has come to mean so much more than the weeks leading up to the twenty-fifth day of December . . . so much more than the excitement over celebrating the birth of a baby.  The birth of the baby no longer means the holiday season is over.  The birth of the baby no longer signifies the end of the most wonderful time of the year.  Christmas is over for another year and its okay because the birth of a baby is never an ending . . . it’s always a beginning.  And this baby . . . He didn’t come as the finale to a month of merriment.  He didn’t come as a conclusion.  This baby came to start and finish and live and be the most wonderful love story OF ALL TIME. 

This baby means everything. 

I will miss the world adorned in its holiday splendor, lights twinkling all over town to announce the arrival of the Light of the World.  I will miss cards arriving in the mailbox each day and searching for surprises and songs about a silent night. Still, it is okay, because although the Christmas season is over, I no longer miss what I was missing all that time.  I no longer miss Him. 

We waited and it came and He came. 

For all.  For always.   

Proverbs 17:17  A friend loves at all times.

I think one of the greatest joys I find in womanhood is in my friendships.  My husband has some wonderful friends – men he has known for years and who now live all over the country, some of whom he speaks to almost daily.  But Adam’s conversations with his friends are like a morning radio show on ESPN. They rehash athletes and sporting events as though being paid to do so, and then hang up abruptly, never once having inquired about one another’s wives, children, jobs, lives, souls.

Lord, how I thank you for making me a female.  I don’t ever have to talk about Tiger Woods with my girlfriends.  I can, of course, because my friends and I can talk about anything.  Yet the majority of my conversations with other women consist of meaningful discussion that truly has the potential to affect my life.

It wasn’t always that way.  The richness that exists in my friendships is not there just because I’m a woman – it’s also there because I’m an adult and a mother.  I was fortunate to have great friends throughout my childhood, and many of those friendships will, I believe, last for the rest of my life.  Still, young girls can’t possibly grasp the depth of importance their friends will have in their adult lives – when the jealousy is either completely gone or easily shared, and the focus is on love and loyalty rather than on social status and survival.  We’re in this game of life together now, as companions instead of competitors.  We want the best for each other, we help each other, sacrifice for each other.

Yes, I think the sincerity in my adult friendships with other mothers comes from the maturity only age and experience can provide.  I also believe it comes from the One who designed friendship from the beginning, He who created us to be in fellowship with others so we could learn what it means to truly love your neighbor as yourself (Mark 12:31).  You see, I treasure my friends because I see Christ in them, and because, I want to be Christ for them.   

I spent a weekend with some of my favorite women recently – a girls getaway as we like to call such outings.  And while we didn’t go far, we didn’t stay long, and we didn’t do anything particularly special, the weekend . . . the women . . . touched my life, and I wasn’t at all surprised.

I see love notes from God all around me this time of year.  In the warmth of the spring sun on my back, in the dogwoods peeking through the pines, in the yellow tulips smiling at me from just beyond my front door.  But I see God most in other women.  When they laugh with me, and sometimes, at me.  When they challenge me to be myself, only better.  When they are honest about my flaws, and accept me anyway.  When they send me a thoughtful text message at just the right time.  When they lift me up with kind words and gestures.  When they encourage me to look beyond my circumstances.  When they affirm my worth in their caring.  When they nurture me . . . educate me . . . inspire me . . . forgive me.

I am so grateful to God for the amazing women he has put in my life.  They are beautiful and bold.  They are dynamic and daring.  They are smart and sweet and silly and soulful.  They are His daughters, spirit-filled and spirit-led, and they are my friends.  I pray I can love them as well as they love me.