The
toddler stands contently beside me. I
mindlessly wash dishes while he busily pulls every piece of silverware out of
the dishwasher and throws it on the floor.
He is happy. The preschooler
stealthily sneaks into the bathroom and squeezes the entire tube of toothpaste
onto the counter. I won’t realize it until two hours later. There’s a salt dough map of America on my
counter that is half done. One girl
calls for my help with her math problem. There are two appointments in the
afternoon, and three scheduled activities in the evening. The puke covered laundry from the stomach
virus that made its rounds in our home this week is now starting to mingle with
the normal laundry that needs to get done. It's an average day. There is more work to do than there is hours in the day, but soon it will be Christmas.
I have
to get the tree up. Where are the
ornaments? Why can’t I get it
together? I look again at my Pinterest
board. The kids ask, “What about the
light show? Are we going ice skating? I really want to make ginger bread houses
again this year.” Somehow I have to
squeeze some type of homemade love into this crazy mess. I need to package things and put bows on
them. There needs to be some "pretty". There are traditions to continue!!!!
And
they will… The traditions will continue,
and somehow it will come together. By
the 25th, we will have managed to push back the crazy and pull out
the special. Our home will have the look
and feel of the American Christmas that we all love. But the Bethlehem Christmas is the Christmas that I need.
Hope was born at the Bethlehem Christmas. As a tiny wet-headed baby, wrapped in rags,
breathing first-breaths of air, heavy with stench, He came. Without the pretty or the bows, He came- just
as God had imagined.
Soon, I will pull
out my beautiful nativity. I will
arrange sweet Mary beside her Joseph, and then I will nestle the baby Jesus
between them. It will be so pretty. But right now, there is a sink full of
dishes, a floor littered with toys, and a soundtrack of bickering in the
background, and my real, living Jesus is nestled down right in the middle of it all. He meets me in the ordinariness and the messiness
of today. Before the bows and the pretty,
He is here. Like His arrival as a baby
so many years ago, he comes today in the stink and the darkness. The majestic King of all Creation, finds His
place in my home because He loves me. I’m
not ready for Him, but He is ready for me.
I stand with my hands submerged in the dishwater and chest tight with worry, and the incarnate God is there with me. I relax in his presence and inhale. I remember the gift of God- my Jesus. Again and again, Jesus breathes his Christmas morning peace into my every-moment-need.