Friday, December 23, 2011

Caught up in it all

My plan to write daily during advent has been sadly derailed by the craziness that I imposed upon myself just so Sunday will have every element I want for it. Because we decided to have a thrift/second-hand/hand-made Christmas, I gave myself a fairly large list of projects to complete. Thrifting is NOT in my life's blood, thay it is in Beve's, and our daughters', so hand-made seemed the best bet if I was going to engage in this way of doing gifts. However, I did not make any adjustments for the several weeks I spent 'feeling punky,' as the elders called my pre and post-surgery status.

The lack of adjustments, that is, my inability to take anything off my plate has made the last couple of weeks rather grueling. In every way. Just ask Beve. Or maybe you shouldn't. I won't tell you everything I've made recently because there are still surprises in the offing, but as I've sat from dawn to darkness as my sewing machine my focus has become increasingly short-sighted. Just as far as my own list, I suppose. And by yesterday when we sat down to a dinner that Beve and E made because I've been working, and Beve took my hand and prayed, "Thank you, Lord, for a day just to relax,"  I could hardly speak. Could hardly believe that he had watched me race from one task to the next with barely a breath...and called it 'relaxing.'  To be fair, to him, such action is usually relaxing.

Let's just say that I got annoyed. No, let's be honest. I got mad. The truth is, I got sucked into the whole Christmas as a consumer-driven holiday even though we'd planned this kind of Christmas in part to keep this from happening.  But the real absence of 'spirit' in me comes because I've allowed myself to believe that my tasks were more urgent than the time I almost always give to God. 

So here I am. Two days before the day on which we all gaze with wonder at the most precious gift ever given and I've been so busy marking off tasks from a list that I've lost my focus. Christmas. The day of Christ. The day when heaven's gates were wide open and the multitude sang in wonder all because a single baby born in an out-the-way place on the edge of an out-of-the-way town. A single birth so wondrous a star stood at attention over the place of his birth, seen so far away men versed in reading such things knew they had to set out right then to find the child who lay beneath the glow of that bright light.

I'm feeling pretty small tonight. Feeling small and sad and wishing I could get a 'do-over', maybe all the way back to October in order to do it better. To enter into this Advent Season with more intention and fewer lists. But though I can--and do--repent, I cannot go back. I can't retrace my steps. I can't go back to Monday when I didn't pick up my Bible because I didn't think I had the time, nor Tuesday because I was sure I didn't.  I must go from here. Make amends with Beve (a long conversation with him this afternoon was helpful and healing and had us both laughing by the end...), and making amends with God.

And with you.
I'm sorry I did not follow through on my plan to write about how Jesus fulfilled prophecies. I regret this. It could have made Advent a richer time. So please forgive me for having let down the side, so to speak. 

It is such things like this--at least in me--that makes it very clear how essential the Incarnation is. I need Jesus. We need Jesus.  God knew it. At day one, He knew it. How thankful I am that Christmas is coming. That Jesus is coming.

O Holy Night, indeed. 

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