He stands in the semi-darkness of dusk’s light filtering in from the front window. His hands are in his pockets. I had just arrived home—impatient, tired. Someone had caused a four-car wreck on the highway. His face looks expectant. I get the sense that I am missing something. I turn and my eyes are drawn to the packages beneath the tree.
That’s what I love about him. We had talked about using his bonus for bills. Christmas was going to be pitiful this year, though not pitiful really because, as he pointed out, we have each other. More importantly, we have Christ in our lives. What’s a few missing gifts to the amazing gift of Salvation—God in human form—come down to earth for us. Oh, what rebellious children we are and yet God doesn’t stop from giving us good gifts.
Then, my husband goes and does something like this. He goes Christmas shopping so we have something to open on Christmas Day. I get to shop for him, too. I think I get more pleasure from that then in receiving. My cat will romp in the torn wrapping paper and my dog will beg for the candy she cannot have, and hot coffee will brew filling our house with the scent of warmth, of love, and maybe I’ll have fresh baked bread sitting in slices on the breakfast bar.
Christmas is tough everywhere. But Christmas was never about the gifts. How can we forget in our day-to-day as we yearn for things we cannot afford or shouldn’t have that Christmas is more about one gift—the gift of the Christ-child. God becoming man. If we forget that, we get in trouble, into debt to meet the world’s expectations of Christmas, and replace God for an idol.
I embrace my husband and he smiles. The lights twinkle on our Christmas tree against the backdrop of a winter night. It’s going to snow, he says.
I say, ‘Let it snow!’
Are you having a rough Christmas? Describe the most memorable moment in your simple Christmas.