Tapestry

Christmas is hard work and expensive! We celebrate Christmas because it is tradition and part of our culture. God doesn’t command it, nor do we earn brownie points for doing so. Is it really worth the trouble? 
 

Of the slow revelation of God’s plan for redeeming his wayward creation, C.S. Lewis wrote, “The whole thing narrows and narrows, until at last it comes down to a little point, small as the point of a spear – a Jewish girl at her prayers.”    Christ came for all humanity, but this Christmas I'm struck by the intimate way in which God dwelt, literally, in the feminine.   I’m struck by how his first advent restored the dignity of women.   God with us, ladies.

    Over the past year, my prayers for patience have exponentially increased. Losing a job with commensurate loss of family income, a new daughter, waiting for an answer as to where to use my gifts, a loss of community, waiting for provision and in desperate need of patience. The patience that God required this past year exceeds human ability.

We all want people in our lives that we can be real with, people we can trust with our hearts and our struggles, people we can risk opening up to. But it is foolishness to share the treasure of our hearts with unsafe people who will judge us, shame us, or condemn us.

So what does a safe person look like? How do we recognize them? And more importantly, how do we become one?

Nothing compares to the power of a negative example. Like the demotivational poster of a shipwreck with the caption: “Mistakes: It Could Be That The Purpose of Your Life is Only to Serve as a Warning to Others.” I am not the posterchild for domesticity or homemaking or caregiving.

I saw a Pinterest cartoon recently in which the subject pointed out that America is the only place where people express gratitude on Thanksgiving for all the things they have and spend the next day shoving people over to get the stuff they don’t. Sadly, Black Friday is only the beginning.

In just a few hours, family will file through our front door bearing their famous dishes and desserts. There’ll be cheesy corn casserole, and buttery pecan pie, tangy cranberry relish, and pillow-y mashed potatoes. I can’t wait for everyone to gather around the table with their plates piled high.

Ah, Thanksgiving: the season of warm homes and hearts, as loved ones gather in Rockwellian delight at God's bountiful provision...(at least the commercials show it that way.) If, in your family, the scent of pumpkin pie can't mask the odor of jealousy, or "turkey" somehow segues into a political debate, you're not alone.. For many, holiday drama causes more heartburn than Aunt June's spiced Turducken.

The child clings, arms wrapped like ivy around my own. It's time to put him down for sleep, but his whimpers say otherwise. We've been apart all day, and he is clear that he needs more--the smell, the feel, the nearness of mommy. "Don't let me be separated from you yet, Mommy," his actions say.