Tis the season…..again

*Edit*  I wrote this a number of years ago but it remains one of my favorite Christmas blogs.  Love to you all!

 

Her belly swollen with child, she climbs atop a donkey to start a long journey.  A child by our standards, she follows a path in faith that began some months ago with a visit from an angel who spoke to her and said, “And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bring forth a Son, and shall call His name Jesus.”  She and her husband are leaving their poor town of

Nazareth to travel to another poor town,

Bethlehem , obeying a decree of Caesar Augustus to register for census and tax in their fathers’ land.  It will be a long, long road.  Long for the poor people already so heavily taxed that they could ill afford to live day to day, let alone travel great distances.  It is a long journey for a woman, still but a girl, who waits for the birth of her child and His promises to be delivered.  She is close, she knows this, and will be closer still while in a place not her home.  Yet she travels.

 

 

 

Twas near a month before Christmas and in Lama’s home, boxes dropped from the attic followed by grunts and a groan.  More boxes still dropping, which caused such a clatter that Roo ran to the rescue with a big “What’s the matter?”  Lama cries, “I’m too little, and these boxes are too big, could you please turn off football and help with this gig?”  He laughs at her anger, the dust in her hair, tries to give her a kiss, she says, “Don’t you dare!” Still laughing as she grumbles, he ruffles her head and exclaims, “It’s the fourth quarter”, she tells him, “Drop dead.” A tense moment, yes, but just for awhile as our Lama busts out in a four year old smile.  “I’m sorry, dear Roo, just let me be, sometimes I forget, it’s not about me.”

 

 

 

Joseph supplies the packs with what he hopes will be enough food to sustain them for the long road ahead.  He is worried about Mary and how she will fare in the weeks before them but his resolve is strong and his heart as open as the day he found that Mary was with child.  A good man, a kind man, he planned on dealing with Mary privately and not leaving her open to the ridicule, shame, or possible stoning that a woman faced when having a child out of wedlock.  That was his heart he contemplated those things and that was his heart still as an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit.  And she shall bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.”  This remains his heart now, so he travels.

 

 

 

Lama goes about her work, a little lighter in heart, Roo grabs a box of lights, (well, it’s a start.)  Like troopers they work, as the day grows long, someone hums to themselves a Christmas song.  The calm is then broken by such a great noise that Lama trips on her boxes and loses her poise.  She runs to the door only to see her poor Roo, headfirst in the bushes, and his Christmas lights too.   He yells, “These lights won’t work and my ladders rocks, two reindeer only stand when saddled by blocks!  Why bother, I say!  There’s no fun or fame!  (And, of course, he’s missing another football game.)  Now Lama ruffles his head and kisses her Roo as she whispers in his ear, “It’s not about you.”

 

 

 

The young couple arrives in

Bethlehem as do so many other travelers, also called upon to reg

ister.  This poor little town, barely able to sustain its own, was now filled beyond capacity with people it could not hold.  The few inns it had were full, the spare spaces in the homes already spent and Joseph and Mary find themselves in a place already too strained to hold them.  With no place to go to they also had no way to go home for Mary has reached her time.  Joseph clamors about the city looking for some place for his wife to rest yet finds nothing let a lone spot left open in a stable.  It will have to do.  “And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger…”

 

 

 

The lights up and ready, the tree standing tall, together they open the best boxes of all.  They contain all her jewels, these tissue-wrapped treasures, the wee ornaments of her boys, a history of pleasures.  With great gentleness they place them, one at a time, these toys made by little hands, or bought with a dime.  Angels and bears and a mini Santa mouse, a train and a dog, a snow laden house.  A couple of trinkets too aged to read, a long used birdhouse, still dotted with seed.  All of them precious, all of them grand and finally just two, left in her hand.  Pictures of little boys, now grown men.  For so many years, she did this for them.

 

 

 

It was a poor, young girl in whom the Lord found enough faith in, a poor young man in whom the Lord found enough heart in and fittingly, poor shepherds watching their flocks at night in whom the Lord sent his angel to proclaim, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people.  For there is born to you this day in the city of

David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Just poor, simple people really.  Regular people.   Average people.  I wonder about those people in that time.  Did they look upon their own sin laid out on that cross as I look upon mine today?  Did they feel it lifted away as His spirit rose and the earth shook in indignation?  Did they look at their children and their children’s children and know it was paid in full, finished, right then.   I wonder, sometimes, as we seem to struggle a little more each year to remember what this season is really about do we,    here,     now….do we forget who it is about?

 

 

 

Trinkets now laid with ribbons and bows,

Old World Santa’s, a reindeer’s red nose.  Little figurines now line the floor and wreaths and mistletoe decorate each door.  Nothing is left but to wait for the night when Roo will flip switches to turn on each light. With all in its place, our Lama is weary as she climbs in Roo’s lap and sighs a bit teary.  He holds her close while petting her head, knowing this is a gal who is ready for bed.  Soon the time comes to light up the tree, two grown-ups clap with childlike glee and they know in their hearts the reason they fuss, Praise Him, Praise Him, it’s all about us!

 

 

 

We wish you a Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

 

 

Lama