I dropped the cap to a full gallon of bleach behind the washing machine this morning. I don’t actually know how you can “drop” something behind a washing machine when you’re standing in front of it, but I did. I’m special like that. Any thought of trying to retrieve it is ridiculous. I’d be consumed by the world of fuzz back there, never to be seen again (kind of what December feels like right now).
Last night was Rylie’s Christmas program at church. I bought her a black sparkly sweater to wear. After I safety-pinned it to make it fit right, we discovered that it was made from some “hyper”allergenic fiber. She scratched herself silly during practice, but the sweater was there to stay
1. Because the red tank top underneath lacks the Christmas feel by itself
and more importantly
2. The threads in the sparkly black sweater were somehow wrapped around the curvy part at the end of the safety-pin….. (for life).
To make matters worse, she had one small duet part in the program to get right. Two lines. We'd rehearsed.
Today we come singing out to you
Good news, great joy, Jesus is born.
How hard can that be? But as we had our last quick rehearsal, what is Rylie doing during her part but playing with a small bead and uncurled paper clip she found on the floor. She was deep in satisfaction. She was also in trouble. The wee moments before the program held no singing (from Rylie’s lips) and no great joy. And as has happened many times before with having three kids, I sent her off to what is supposed to be a happy memory-making time, tearful.
There’s no time I’m more aware of how things go wrong than during “the season”.
All is merry and bright. What a crock.
Sure I smile at seen gestures of kindness and I enjoy the company of family and friends. There's nothing like the tastes of Christmas or the sounds of old familiar carols.
Both the wonderful and the blunderful seem magnified this time of year.
Shopping at the last minute, I get the shopping cart with the damaged wheel that clang clang clangs my cart slightly to the right. Stern on not making Christmas about things, I pile the unnecessary into my basket. I overdo. And I don't do enough.
I burn cookies and the soup I made for the neighbor gets old before I have time to deliver it.
Besides my usual blunders evident during the “all is bright” Christmas days, there are other things that cause me to get the Christmas blues. I lost my cousin and best friend twenty-two years ago, tomorrow, to a car wreck two weeks before I got my driver’s license and just weeks after she got hers. Somehow the memory of her tragic death clouds part of the holidays. I’m convinced that there are more deaths during December than any other month. The pain of loss isn't felt probably more strongly any other time than at Christmas. I can’t imagine not being able to spend Christmas with the ones I love, but there are a lot of you out there doing just that. That makes me hurt.
Jason and I have always been able to get the kids pretty much what they want for Christmas. There’s usually not anything that they need. That’s not the case with many.
Beyond the packed shoeboxes, random acts of kindness and wrapped angel tree gifts there’s a world of poverty and loneliness that we can’t even touch.
But life is wonderful
Not because “all is calm” in these harried days.
Life is wonderful because Christ came long ago and gave us the gift of hope; the foretaste of glory divine that is our’s forever through faith in Him. Hope can't be extinguished though sold-out Zoomer robot dogs or failed attempts at Christmas magic.
And with all our blunders and pains life is wonderful because Christ offers a peace that passes these things we can’t control nor understand.
Life is wonderful because Joy doesn’t cost “us” a thing. Jesus offers deep contentment, if we’ll let Him, that exists in the midst of burned cookies, itchy sweaters and icy winds.
It’s a wonderful life because Christ came. Immanuel. He’s with us. And he’s coming again.
In all of our blunders and brokenness, life is wonderful because Christ is wonderful.