Ginger bread houses.
Finding the tree.
Decorating the tree.
Lots of candles.
The manger scene.
Running to the mailbox hoping for another bundle of Christmas Cards.
A large unnecessary project
Making plans to visit family
Christmas light hunts
Count down chain
Nine trips the grocery in 24 hours
Lots of little pieces and December is full
Full of light and life and stories and memories
It is important, and daily, we remain expectant. Waiting on the day.
Something coming. Something arriving. Someone arriving.
It was a long build up, this waiting for the Christ child.
When the garden of perfection grew wild with weeds and thorns, the wait began.
A worldwide flood.
Seas opening wide
Giants killed with rocks.
Dynasties and powers and thrones and villains and heroes and castles and temples and stories and power and life and death and rebellion and slavery and freedom and kingdoms. All coming and going. Rising tall then crashing down. Living. Dying. Coming. Going. Waiting.
Then the uncomfortable feeling. Christmas Eve. So much to be done and so much to put together and make right. Mary, so uncomfortable. Cramping and Laboring and pushing. So uncomfortable that part of the wait. Then he arrived and the laboring was over. Peace. He is here!
A baby in a manger. Savior of the world.
He came so tiny. I wonder what everyone expected. Glory. The glory that is profound and seen and heard and loud and royal.
I wonder if Mary kept him close to make sure he took his next breath. I wonder how many times, in the first night, he suckled. I wonder how they took it all in or if it was what they expected or if they didn’t even know. Would he look different? He didn’t. Just a baby in a blanket – aware of hunger and cold -- just like that.
The angel gave Joseph enough information to make it to that night, but I’m sure his human mind ran in circles and wondered as flesh and bone and hair and wiggles and noises arrived without another sign.
Shepherds visiting. For Mary too. It was the miracle that night -- the shepherds. They came and then there was no doubt. Christ as a child. He had made it. The wait was over.