Christmas was a labor of love in a very real sense of the word.
Because a long time ago, there was a woman who held Christmas, not on her shoulders, but in her arms. Like you and me, she had the privilege of shaping Christmas, but it wasnât through the labor of her hands. Indeed, Christmas entered the world through the painful rending of her pregnant body, and then she held him in her arms as he slept.
As Iâm rushing through the last hectic days before Christmas, itâs not a bad time to remember that, as well-intentioned as they may be, my efforts donât âmakeâ Christmas. God did thatâthrough Maryâ2,000 years ago. Which makes Christmas complete and perfect, just the way it is.
If I have any goal this December, maybe it should be to celebrate Christmas the way Mary did: By embracing the person called the Christ.
Well, that . . . and staying away from Bath World on Wednesdays.
10
The Christmas Babies
A PORTION OF THIS COLUMN IS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD.
This is because I am including in these pages a letter I wrote to my daughter Kaitlyn in honor of our first Christmas together. She was six weeks old at the time.
The letter has never been published.
Oh, I tried to share it with friends and family one year, but there was a minor complication. Remember how, in an earlier chapter, I confessed that Iâm such a procrastinator Iâve been known to write Christmas cards, address them to friends and family, then let the pile of envelopes sit on my den coffee table for months on end?
Well, back in â91, a copy of this letter was in each of eighty Christmas cards that eventually ended up in the trash. They ended up in the trash because it was May, and I needed the space on the coffee table to write out valentines.
Christmas is upon us and right about now you and I have To-Do lists that are a mile long. If youâre like me, youâll get a lot of things done. And if youâre REALLY like me, thereâll be more than a few things on your list that youâll never actually accomplish. The good news is that life will go on. Youâll discover that just because you didnât finish your To-Do list, itâs not the end of the world as we know it. (Although if for some reason the world-as-we-know-it comes to a crashing halt on December 26, I may have to reconsider that last statement.)
Itâs amazing all the things that need to be done in the last days before Christmas. Even things that donât have anything to do with Christmas suddenly need to be done before Christmas. Like fixing the braided rug in my office. The threads holding the braids in a spiral have been unraveling for months, but for some unexplained, masochistic reason it didnât feel life-threatening until NOW, one week before Christmas, when Iâm so stressed and busy that I donât even have time to wash my hair and shave my legs during the same shower.
Naturally, this is when I found myself looking at the rug in a crazed panic and thinking, âThat rug must be repaired and it must be repaired TODAY.â
This is why I was willing to try The Shortcut.
So this morning I bypassed the needle and thread and went straight for the hot glue gun.
Actually, it worked great. The rug looks like new. Of course, Iâm wondering if I was as careful as I should have been. I say this because our German shepherd walked across the rug as I was working, and he hasnât moved since.
But my point is that you and I have a lot to do right now and a lot on our minds as well.
Which is why I decided to include the following letter. Itâs about another woman who had a lot on her mind as well, some 2000 Christmases ago.
So here they are, fresh from mothballs, the words I penned to my own baby fourteen years ago. Consider them my Christmas gift to you, a small token from one harried woman to another. Merry Christmas to you and yours!
Dearest Kaitlyn,
Tonight I put the finishing touches on
Because a long time ago, there was a woman who held Christmas, not on her shoulders, but in her arms. Like you and me, she had the privilege of shaping Christmas, but it wasnât through the labor of her hands. Indeed, Christmas entered the world through the painful rending of her pregnant body, and then she held him in her arms as he slept.
As Iâm rushing through the last hectic days before Christmas, itâs not a bad time to remember that, as well-intentioned as they may be, my efforts donât âmakeâ Christmas. God did thatâthrough Maryâ2,000 years ago. Which makes Christmas complete and perfect, just the way it is.
If I have any goal this December, maybe it should be to celebrate Christmas the way Mary did: By embracing the person called the Christ.
Well, that . . . and staying away from Bath World on Wednesdays.
10
The Christmas Babies
A PORTION OF THIS COLUMN IS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD.
This is because I am including in these pages a letter I wrote to my daughter Kaitlyn in honor of our first Christmas together. She was six weeks old at the time.
The letter has never been published.
Oh, I tried to share it with friends and family one year, but there was a minor complication. Remember how, in an earlier chapter, I confessed that Iâm such a procrastinator Iâve been known to write Christmas cards, address them to friends and family, then let the pile of envelopes sit on my den coffee table for months on end?
Well, back in â91, a copy of this letter was in each of eighty Christmas cards that eventually ended up in the trash. They ended up in the trash because it was May, and I needed the space on the coffee table to write out valentines.
Christmas is upon us and right about now you and I have To-Do lists that are a mile long. If youâre like me, youâll get a lot of things done. And if youâre REALLY like me, thereâll be more than a few things on your list that youâll never actually accomplish. The good news is that life will go on. Youâll discover that just because you didnât finish your To-Do list, itâs not the end of the world as we know it. (Although if for some reason the world-as-we-know-it comes to a crashing halt on December 26, I may have to reconsider that last statement.)
Itâs amazing all the things that need to be done in the last days before Christmas. Even things that donât have anything to do with Christmas suddenly need to be done before Christmas. Like fixing the braided rug in my office. The threads holding the braids in a spiral have been unraveling for months, but for some unexplained, masochistic reason it didnât feel life-threatening until NOW, one week before Christmas, when Iâm so stressed and busy that I donât even have time to wash my hair and shave my legs during the same shower.
Naturally, this is when I found myself looking at the rug in a crazed panic and thinking, âThat rug must be repaired and it must be repaired TODAY.â
This is why I was willing to try The Shortcut.
So this morning I bypassed the needle and thread and went straight for the hot glue gun.
Actually, it worked great. The rug looks like new. Of course, Iâm wondering if I was as careful as I should have been. I say this because our German shepherd walked across the rug as I was working, and he hasnât moved since.
But my point is that you and I have a lot to do right now and a lot on our minds as well.
Which is why I decided to include the following letter. Itâs about another woman who had a lot on her mind as well, some 2000 Christmases ago.
So here they are, fresh from mothballs, the words I penned to my own baby fourteen years ago. Consider them my Christmas gift to you, a small token from one harried woman to another. Merry Christmas to you and yours!
Dearest Kaitlyn,
Tonight I put the finishing touches on
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