We weren’t even there yet and I was critically telling myself it was a bad idea.
It was late, they were tired, I was tired. But the days of the week were running low, slipping through the narrow funnel of time-left and all-the-things-still-to-do. With Daddy out of town and Mommy running low on energy and patience and everything else. A heavy still-to-do list in my pocket and I was pretty much thinking this outing was doomed from the start.
Because Christmas isn’t just about a baby. It's about a Savior.
How did I keep breathing? Keep the van on the road?
Do you think so, I ask him. Do you think that’s why we have all of these lights to shine so brightly in the dark, to remind us that He is the light in us? That He is always bringing glimmers of hope and dispelling shadows of darkness and fear and doubt. That He is always a running strand of twinkle lights, never going dim?
“Mommy, tell me more stories about Jesus.”
I burst into immediate tears. Couldn’t speak.
More than simply peace on earth.
More than where we’ll be going when and are there any days left in December even now for anything extra?
More than advent games and more than special treats and more than stockings hung with care.
More than anything, more than everything.
More than going caroling, more than hot chocolate in a mug, soothing cold hands, more than the jingle jangle of the Salvation Army bell.
“And I saw no temple in the city,
for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty
and the Lamb.
And the city has no need of sun
or moon to shine on it,
for the glory of God gives it light,
and its lamp is the Lamb.
~ R e v e l a t i o n 2 1 : 2 2 - 2 3