This morning I woke up in my old roommate's bed surrounded by all of my stuff (I just finished painting my bedroom, so I moved everything to her's, and was too tired to move it back last night). Back in November I had hopes of celebrating the advent season and counting down the days until Christmas, but here I am on December 24th, and the whole month has been a whirlwind. So instead of greatly anticipating the arrival of Christmas, I have stumbled upon it.
I read Luke 1 and 2 under the covers. I forgot how amazing that story is. There are like four angel visitations--if you're not familiar with the Bible, that's a big deal, for there to be four visitations in two chapters. I think if the story was updated, and set in California, Mary and Joseph would have been relegated to a parking garage in a town between Bakersfield and Fresno, and the newborn Jesus would be wrapped in newspaper and lying in a cardboard box. Instead of shepherds, potbellied truckers (who hadn't showered in days, and smelled like cigarette smoke) taking a break at a rest stop off of highway 5 would have been visited by the angelic hosts, and would make their way in a caravan of big rigs to the Motel 5 parking lot where the baby was.
Today will be a busy day of buying last minute gifts, wrapping presents, writing cards, and cooking things (okay, just one thing, I only have to cook one thing, but still). I wish I had meditated on the magnitude of Christmas for weeks, but I didn't, so I will think about it today as I go about my business, and remember that God is good, and merciful, and sometimes we wait for things and sometimes they are given to us unexpectedly.
Merry Christmas!
