I already know the advent patterns. The pendulum of peace and panic. The joys and frustrations. It's the most wonderful time of the year. It's the materialistic got all my priorities wrong time of year. It's the quiet family moments reading Christmas books around the tree. It's nagging the kids about one more mess. It's three pageants in a row how the heck are we gonna get lunch before The Christmas Carol? It's the late night early morning sleep deprived fog. It's the midnight Christmas Eve service with just me and Bill, kids home asleep, everything is done and I'm finally thinking about Jesus. Christmas present.
Maybe that's a little too late.
I found a little painted stone my cousin Robin sent us last year. It was in the junk drawer and as I was rummaging around, looking for a bandaid because I cut the Dickens out of my thumb serving the pumpkin pie, I spied it.
It is one of those you put in your pocket and it's painted white with red letters and green holly. It says JOY.
After this year we only have five "normal" Christmases with Calvin home. We don't know what Christmas future will bring. Maybe it's time to stop sweating the small stuff.
JOY.
Could all the words that come out of my mouth in the next three weeks be filled with JOY? All my secret attitudes? JOY. The JOY that I do truly feel, on account of the liaison between us and God in the birth of a little baby who can't possibly be symbolized or contained in a little playmobil manger, or just the right decorations. Who--I might add--really doesn't give a hoot if the cookies are a little brown around the edges or if Mary snags her tights before the program.
If we really could hear those angels singing --the multitude--praising God in the form of that little baby--would the small stuff matter? Would the table manners matter? The faint odor of cat litter? The missing bow out on the front greenery?
The lesson from the ghost of Christmas past? It always gets done. Everything that matters gets done. So, why not attempt it with the complete JOY that I do truly feel toward it. I love every single thing that has to do with Christmas. It's completely true. I love every moment. When I'm there.
JOY. I've taken my moment. I'm here, writing this. I'm all alone for the first time in a week. Maybe two weeks. I needed that--to kindle the spark. To secure my own oxygen mask. Breath in the JOY. Breath out everything else.
I'm heading down to the basement for the first box of decorations. I only have an hour before I shower and pick up the kids. Only two weeks before the Christmas recital here and the Choral Service. Three weeks till Christmas. It's enough. For this moment. One moment at a time. One joyful breath at a time.
To my whole circle of friends and family and teachers and students--I wish you JOY! We're all busy and each of us has our own--but with every advent breath I'm trying for this. JOY is my mantra these next weeks of Christmastime.
No comments:
Post a Comment