Christmas Perspective
Thumbing through another “Country Living” magazine, my Grandmom and I would be deep in conversation about everything from the birds that were flying by her giant living room window to the latest version of drama unfolding in my young life.
Grandmom was a safe place for me. A place of unending love and comfort and (of course) freshly baked goods.
The ottoman in her living room displayed every type of crafting magazine you could imagine, fanned out in perfect order to catch a quick glimpse into what each offered.
Every worn page filled with inspiration for artful pieces just waiting to be made.
She was a skilled woodworker and painter, and it was her great joy to build beautiful, meaningful pieces for our family.
Every year at Christmas, I pull out this wooden manger puzzle that she chiseled into shape.
To be quite honest, I question where to put it because it doesn’t look especially festive. The brown wood looks a bit dull and unfinished.
For years, I’ve wished she would have put her paintbrush to use on it, making it more vibrant and worthy of attention.
But the more I’ve thought about it this year, the more I believe she left it plain on purpose. She was onto something worthy of us learning.
The manger was never meant to be flashy to capture our attention.
I love Christmas time. The more twinkle lights, Kenny G saxophone melodies, soul-warming traditions and homemade treats, the better.
So much of me longs for this season to feel magical and rich and full, the way it did when I was a child.
However, each passing year brings with it a deeper ache that no such festive colors can mask. Brokenness that seems too heavy for such a joyous season.
The cancer diagnosis of a dear family member, the child struggling with suicidal thoughts, the shattered family relationships, the marking of another year feeling lonely, the financial hardship.
The temptation to cover up any hurt and pain with tinsel and caroling seems all too familiar.
But then I think back to that simple, humble Manger. Jesus didn’t try to mask the hurt with flashy, bright lights and festive traditions. He entered into that space to be with you and me.
Emmanuel, God with us.
And with Him, He brings real comfort, real peace, real joy, real hope and real love that every human heart longs for.
Whether this season is full of Christmas cheer or deep grief, or possibly a mixture of both, my prayer is that you would sense more fully Emmanuel, God with you.
His promise rings true just as much today as it did in that Manger many years ago.
