All of heaven wondered why
Why their King would choose to be
Be a baby born to die
-Bebo Norman, Born to Die
And she gave birth to her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Luke 2:7
This morning I find myself alone for the first time in a long time. It’s weird. Like all Decembers for everyone, there’s been something nearly every day. Sometimes December feels like a giant to-do list: shop here, order this, make this, pick up the thing, drive here, do this. Don’t get me wrong; I freaking love a good to-do list. So you’d think a month of to-do’s would be delightful! The thing is, I always set myself up for failure, because I want to do all the things that everyone else is doing, too. I wanted to do Advent things, bake old and new Christmas treats, decorate the house within an inch of sanity, stare at the Christmas tree, throw a few Christmas parties, go to a few Christmas parties, write a brilliantly funny Christmas letter, make all the things on my Christmas Pinterest board. Duh. So when I find myself at the end of December taking stock of the month and realize that my Christmasy crafty-ness consisted of sticking little sparkly bows on Trader Joe’s chocolate bars, well, it’s a bit of a let-down. I didn’t really think about the birth of Jesus at all. I didn’t watch one Christmas movie. I didn’t bake one damn Christmas cookie. I didn’t make gingerbread houses with my nieces. I spent my time tracking my Amazon orders that I ordered a bit late (whatever), and running to the store at the last minute. My contribution to the family Christmas breakfast was store-bought cinnamon rolls, complete with icing in a package. For a woman of Norwegian descent, you can imagine the horror I tried to ignore-not homemade?? Not packed with loving amounts of real butter?
Well, so much for all I did and didn’t do. I found myself instead blessed with the loving attentions and loving grace of my family and friends. This was the month to give myself a break and accept the goodness of others. With health issues abounding still and exhaustion reigning, I relaxed at my parent’s home and at the home of my in-laws, both of whom explode with hospitality and generosity. My dad read the Christmas story aloud before presents, and I remembered through this tradition the reason for why we gather, why we give presents, why we make food and spend time together, why we make time in an already crazy season. God came to us in the craziness of real time, of real life, in a birth of dubious background, in a time of great cultural stress and upheaval. God made Himself a gift to us, in a way that makes us scratch our heads and wonder at the Christmas story anew. How can it become old hat, become merely something on a to-do list? Thankfully, God waits for us patiently and graciously-He understands how hard it is to be human, especially in December.
