not as I had imagined...
"You're going to have the BEST Christmas this year!" I heard that over and over and over again. The unfortunate reality for this Christmas is that I've had a lifetime of amazing Christmases. In my almost 3 decades of life, I've only had one "bad" Christmas, and to be honest, it actually was better than I anticipated it was going to be at the time. But each stranger who took the time to admire my sweet, chubby cheeked child made sure to let me know that this would, in fact, be the best Christmas I would ever have.
Christmas Eve is actually my favorite day of the whole season. My mom has a way of making holidays incredibly special. She's the hostess with the mostess. And so every year (for as long as I can remember), she made Christmas Eve the sweetest time for our family. We would always find ourselves packed in the pews of our hometown church for a candlelight service, which quickly became my favorite tradition. The one I look forward to the most every year. I eagerly anticipate the end of the service when the lights dim and soft candlelight fills the room as voices sing out Silent Night. I cry every time. Every single time. Not because of the sheer beauty. Not because of the tradition. But because when I close my eyes to sing, my heart is overwhelmed with the thoughts from the many years before. I can hear my grandad's deep, steady voice. The voice that taught me Silent Night and Away in a Manger when he kept me as a little girl. I can hear my mom's beautiful voice perfectly harmonizing. I think about the hardest Christmas I walked through when I felt too depressed to go to the candlelight service and my dad held my hand during that tender moment. And I think about how sweet Jesus was to enter in to such a dark place so that He could bring us joy and peace like we'd never know otherwise. Christmas Eve is the one day I look forward to the most every single December, and this Christmas Eve, despite what others told me, was not the best one I've ever had.
I've come to learn that newborns, and maybe all young children in general, add an incredible amount of effort to everything. Even the simple things. The things you once enjoyed now seem like huge tasks, and that was certainly the case this year. At the start of the season, I told Aaron I would be absolutely fine with foregoing gifts this year because the idea of shopping seemed overwhelming. Thanks to the assistance of family, however, I was able to take a few shopping trips and put some gifts under the tree. But this time of year that is usually filled with Christmas festivities, Hallmark movies, baking, and decorating was more focused on just getting through each day... and trying to remember what day it was. And so before we knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived. Due to scheduling, our Christmas Eve was going to look different than all the other years, but that was okay. We would make the most it because in our house, we have a rule that on holidays and special occasions, we will make an effort to make it fun and memorable (in a good way) and everyone will be on their best behavior. This rule was made after our first Thanksgiving and Christmas ended in tears and the silent treatment. Thankfully, we can laugh about it now. But the holidays are too sweet of occasions to be mad. Too sweet to hold grudges or be difficult. These days are few and far between, and we want them to be moments we look back on a cherish forever.
We made it to the service, and I just hoped Annabeth would hang in there until the end. Aaron fed her right before it started, so I thought our chances looked promising. About halfway through the service, she decided she was going to be grumpy and vocal about it, which meant we spent the last half of the service walking the foyer as I tried to peek through the doors and participate that way. "Maybe, just maybe, I can get her to calm down so I can make it back in before the end", I thought to myself. But the lights dimmed, the candles were lit, and as the voices sang Silent Night, I stood in the empty foyer humming the song to her and fighting back the feelings of disappointment that washed over me because this Christmas Eve was not shaping up as I had imagined.
But maybe Mary felt that way, don't you think? Riding into town on a donkey, with I'm sure an incredible back ache, she had probably been dreaming, for miles, of the moment she could finally lay down on a soft bed and get some rest. And much to her dismay, there wasn't one. I bet she thought to herself, "You have go to be kidding me! There's not a single room in this town? This is just my luck." And she may have very well been irritated. But then they found this stable with hay, and oh well, when you're tired enough, even that will do. And as she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot, the pains began. She was having her baby in a stable, which I'm sure is far from how she imagined it. "Really? Here?" But this was happening and there was nothing she could do about it because this baby was calling the shots now. She was completely out of control, and all she could do was go along with it. Breathe in, breathe out, and just do what she knew to do. Have that baby. But I wonder if Mary was feeling a little disappointed as she was lying on that nasty, dirty, smelly floor giving birth to her first child. She didn't even have her baby bag with her. She wasn't ready for him right now. Why did it have to be that way? Why couldn't it have gone the way she planned? You know, not in a barn? But that Christmas Eve was not shaping up as she had imagined.
And maybe, like me, you need to take a cue from Mary. I sure know why God chose her of all women. Because as Mary was sitting in a stable, surrounded by animals, laying her newborn son in a feeding trough, "she treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." (Luke 2:19) She knew this was a moment in time she would never get back. She would never have the opportunity to hold that tiny baby in her arms again because each day he would grow and change and in a short 33 years, he would be gone for a while. She knew God was doing something big, bigger than she could have ever imagined, and she was taking it in. God was teaching her. Amazing her. Astounding her. And Mary knew that Christmas Eve wouldn't look the same next year or the next, and so she treasured the night. She stored the memory. A sweet moment to think back on years later when cradling her son would not longer be an option.
I'll always remember this Christmas. I'll remember walking the halls with Annabeth in an attempt to calm her cries during the Christmas Eve service. I'll remember how sweetly she smiled on Christmas Day when I unwrapped gifts for her, I displayed each one for her to see, and although I know she had no clue those gifts belonged to her, her perfectly timed grins made it seem that she did . I'll remember standing in my parents living room, holding hands as my dad prayed over our family, and I'll remember how he thanked God for a year with no losses and two (almost 3!) precious additions. Yes, this is a Christmas I'll never forget. The best one? Well, I think the best is yet to come, don't you? But I'll learn a lesson from Mary and treasure up these things in my heart. Because next Christmas won't look the same, and neither will the one after that. But each one holds sweet moments that I'll look back on years later, and I'll keep thanking Jesus for that first Christmas Eve. The one that went according to God's perfect plan.
Christmas Eve is actually my favorite day of the whole season. My mom has a way of making holidays incredibly special. She's the hostess with the mostess. And so every year (for as long as I can remember), she made Christmas Eve the sweetest time for our family. We would always find ourselves packed in the pews of our hometown church for a candlelight service, which quickly became my favorite tradition. The one I look forward to the most every year. I eagerly anticipate the end of the service when the lights dim and soft candlelight fills the room as voices sing out Silent Night. I cry every time. Every single time. Not because of the sheer beauty. Not because of the tradition. But because when I close my eyes to sing, my heart is overwhelmed with the thoughts from the many years before. I can hear my grandad's deep, steady voice. The voice that taught me Silent Night and Away in a Manger when he kept me as a little girl. I can hear my mom's beautiful voice perfectly harmonizing. I think about the hardest Christmas I walked through when I felt too depressed to go to the candlelight service and my dad held my hand during that tender moment. And I think about how sweet Jesus was to enter in to such a dark place so that He could bring us joy and peace like we'd never know otherwise. Christmas Eve is the one day I look forward to the most every single December, and this Christmas Eve, despite what others told me, was not the best one I've ever had.
I've come to learn that newborns, and maybe all young children in general, add an incredible amount of effort to everything. Even the simple things. The things you once enjoyed now seem like huge tasks, and that was certainly the case this year. At the start of the season, I told Aaron I would be absolutely fine with foregoing gifts this year because the idea of shopping seemed overwhelming. Thanks to the assistance of family, however, I was able to take a few shopping trips and put some gifts under the tree. But this time of year that is usually filled with Christmas festivities, Hallmark movies, baking, and decorating was more focused on just getting through each day... and trying to remember what day it was. And so before we knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived. Due to scheduling, our Christmas Eve was going to look different than all the other years, but that was okay. We would make the most it because in our house, we have a rule that on holidays and special occasions, we will make an effort to make it fun and memorable (in a good way) and everyone will be on their best behavior. This rule was made after our first Thanksgiving and Christmas ended in tears and the silent treatment. Thankfully, we can laugh about it now. But the holidays are too sweet of occasions to be mad. Too sweet to hold grudges or be difficult. These days are few and far between, and we want them to be moments we look back on a cherish forever.
We made it to the service, and I just hoped Annabeth would hang in there until the end. Aaron fed her right before it started, so I thought our chances looked promising. About halfway through the service, she decided she was going to be grumpy and vocal about it, which meant we spent the last half of the service walking the foyer as I tried to peek through the doors and participate that way. "Maybe, just maybe, I can get her to calm down so I can make it back in before the end", I thought to myself. But the lights dimmed, the candles were lit, and as the voices sang Silent Night, I stood in the empty foyer humming the song to her and fighting back the feelings of disappointment that washed over me because this Christmas Eve was not shaping up as I had imagined.
But maybe Mary felt that way, don't you think? Riding into town on a donkey, with I'm sure an incredible back ache, she had probably been dreaming, for miles, of the moment she could finally lay down on a soft bed and get some rest. And much to her dismay, there wasn't one. I bet she thought to herself, "You have go to be kidding me! There's not a single room in this town? This is just my luck." And she may have very well been irritated. But then they found this stable with hay, and oh well, when you're tired enough, even that will do. And as she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot, the pains began. She was having her baby in a stable, which I'm sure is far from how she imagined it. "Really? Here?" But this was happening and there was nothing she could do about it because this baby was calling the shots now. She was completely out of control, and all she could do was go along with it. Breathe in, breathe out, and just do what she knew to do. Have that baby. But I wonder if Mary was feeling a little disappointed as she was lying on that nasty, dirty, smelly floor giving birth to her first child. She didn't even have her baby bag with her. She wasn't ready for him right now. Why did it have to be that way? Why couldn't it have gone the way she planned? You know, not in a barn? But that Christmas Eve was not shaping up as she had imagined.
And maybe, like me, you need to take a cue from Mary. I sure know why God chose her of all women. Because as Mary was sitting in a stable, surrounded by animals, laying her newborn son in a feeding trough, "she treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." (Luke 2:19) She knew this was a moment in time she would never get back. She would never have the opportunity to hold that tiny baby in her arms again because each day he would grow and change and in a short 33 years, he would be gone for a while. She knew God was doing something big, bigger than she could have ever imagined, and she was taking it in. God was teaching her. Amazing her. Astounding her. And Mary knew that Christmas Eve wouldn't look the same next year or the next, and so she treasured the night. She stored the memory. A sweet moment to think back on years later when cradling her son would not longer be an option.
I'll always remember this Christmas. I'll remember walking the halls with Annabeth in an attempt to calm her cries during the Christmas Eve service. I'll remember how sweetly she smiled on Christmas Day when I unwrapped gifts for her, I displayed each one for her to see, and although I know she had no clue those gifts belonged to her, her perfectly timed grins made it seem that she did . I'll remember standing in my parents living room, holding hands as my dad prayed over our family, and I'll remember how he thanked God for a year with no losses and two (almost 3!) precious additions. Yes, this is a Christmas I'll never forget. The best one? Well, I think the best is yet to come, don't you? But I'll learn a lesson from Mary and treasure up these things in my heart. Because next Christmas won't look the same, and neither will the one after that. But each one holds sweet moments that I'll look back on years later, and I'll keep thanking Jesus for that first Christmas Eve. The one that went according to God's perfect plan.
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