Skip to main content

Songs not about Santa...


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.  

We had jetted off to Target the night before and it had been a near fiasco.  And here we were, another night after dinner and out running around in the early evening dark.  We slowed and allowed eight deer to pass.  I would probably hit a deer tonight.  That was my thought.  That would just be whipped cream on the top of a spilled peppermint mocha right now.  I had nearly had a heart attack and an immediate ugly-cry at Target when I feared I had lost my keys.  

Just.  Stay.  Home.  That's what I should have done.

But I had things to pick-up and not another day to do it in, so it was tonight.  Had to be.  I loaded them up and rushed out the door.  Half-way there my oldest is coughing and wants his water.  Oops, Mommy forgot.  Please, don’t have a fit, please don’t have a fit, hey, if you’re good, I’ll get you a juice box!  Crisis averted!

And then we enter town and the white lights strung on the trees along Main Street were all blinking hello and tidings of great joy.  I felt the excitement, the thrill, the wonder that Christmas always brings with it.  I pointed them out, not like he couldn’t see them on his own.  “Do you see those lights, honey!  Look how pretty!”  And he exclaimed, “I LOVE it!  I love Christmas THE BEST!”  I told him that I did, too.  Christmas was my favorite, too.

Without thinking, I asked, “Do you know why Christmas is the best?  Who was born at Christmas?”  Surprisingly, immediately, he answers: “JESUS!”  My eyes pooled.  I told him that yes, Jesus had come as a baby, so He could grow up and die for our sins.  That without Him we are just complete messes and so lost and God knew that.  And God knew we needed Someone to save us. 

Because Christmas isn’t just about a baby.  It's about a Savior.


I talked with him lightly and simply about how Jesus is the greatest gift.  How that’s why we love Christmas the best - because Jesus is the best.  And he added, again, little child’s understanding illuminating my own, “That’s why we have all the lights!  Because Jesus lights us up, right?!”  

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?  

Of course.  And I think so, too.

And then we’re almost to Walmart, the blink-blink-blink of my turn signal is going wild, waiting.     I start thinking about what I need to grab off the shelves, how quickly can we get in and get out and get home.  Trying to estimate how long little brother will last before the "Travis Apocalypse" ensues.  And then it’s his little voice, so honest and pure in so many ways and he tells me, doesn’t even ask,

“Mommy, tell me more stories about Jesus.”  


I burst into immediate tears.  Couldn’t speak.

My hustle is silenced and I nod, even though he can’t see me in the dark of the van, him sitting behind me.  You’re right, little man.  You’re so right.  We should just keep on telling more stories about Jesus.  

More than when to get those photo-cards printed up.  

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.  

Over, under, through.  Just tell more about Jesus.  

Savior.  Messiah.  Redeemer.  Friend.

Our light.  In the darkness.


“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 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

{ I've Heard the Whisper ... }

Nobody likes to sit in the dark.
That’s what I tell him as I flip on the light so he can clearly see his granola bar, handful of Froot Loops and his Star Wars vitamins.
No one wants darkness.  It’s heavy and depressing.  Oppressing. It feels sneaky and devious. It can feel scary and hopeless.  It’s a wet blanket on the warm fire of a sun-filled day. It snuffs out all the hope and brilliance, ideas and dreams, that you had during the day. In the dark it all shifts. It all feels worn and tired, old and pointless; you feel lost in a forest of trees with eyes and faces and arms and you wonder why you ever thought you could find your way out or change the world.
The darkness can be such a storyteller of lies.
The darkness can be such a sanctuary for the Teller of all the lies. 
And the darkness can be banished... just. like. that.
“Let there be light.”

God proved in the very beginning, before elephants and man and oceans and babies... He proved first that beyond creating, beyond teaching leaves …

Tale as old as time: a different sort of review...

Is there any more beautiful notes than the first few tones of the dramatic prologue to Beauty and the Beast? When Disney released its animated version in 1991, my little ten year old heart was completely enraptured. Enchanted. I am never not moved by the overview of the roses, the squinting through brambles to see the castle aching and looming large against the sky.

Last night I swung by RedBox and picked up the newest version, since I'm like the only person on the planet who hasn't seen it, yet. I was ready for some uninterrupted girl time - just me and my mini Ben & Jerry's. I couldn't get the kids to bed fast enough (which is ironic, because I allowed them to stay up later than normal - the things we do as mothers that never make sense to anyone). I had my evening planned out and suddenly I had unending patience and energy. Funny how self-care works.

I settled deeper into my couch, held the ice cream close and got ready for an evening free of thinking and lists …

Your Love is Fierce...

I was so angry. So painfully, gut-wrenchingly, angry.
I didn’t know that’s what it was.
January was exhausting, sickly, draining. It clipped fast on the heels of December and holidays and before I knew it, what should have been a day to celebrate my beautiful niece, was a reminder that she wasn’t here. And I was a mess all day. Cried about everything. I had a purple heart on the calendar and I was destroyed.
I went to choir practice the following Wednesday. I usually always want to go. This week, I didn’t. I felt shattered and exposed and I knew that any song, every song, would set me off. I knew I needed to go, something deep in my spirit knew, but I was so apprehensive. One chorus. One bridge. One well-meaning repeat and I would be undone. I had been breaking and re-breaking in a thousand different ways since October. I was falling apart in every direction.
I had to leave during practice once that night. Went into the ladies room and sobbed so loud, before I could stop myself. My grief …