I used to think that the Christmas season was about seeking out special gifts for the people closest to me to surprise them with in December at my annual party or decorating my tree on Thanksgiving weekend to enjoy—mostly by myself—until January 1, or gathering at Mom & Dad’s every Christmas Eve … until we lost Daddy. It was always a hustle and bustle kind of time with parties and dinners, invitations (most you turned down) and invocations (most you turned up), and certainly a time of reflection, repentance, and renewal.
I don’t think those things anymore. Not because there’s anything wrong or bad about any of it, but because I’ve been given a bird’s eye view of what God probably meant for what Christmas is about.
I’ve been taking care of my 92-year-old mother now for 21 months since she suffered a stroke in early 2020, leaving her unable to truly live “on her own” anymore. I watch her toes tap underneath a rainbow-colored blanket every night now to the theme song of Jeopardy, and every morning I have “Breakfast with Sweet Betty!” In between there are hours upon hours of watching her fall asleep, mouth wide-open and oxygen flowing, tucking her into bed, setting her hair, polishing fingernails, clipping toenails, figuring out what’s for dinner, bagging up trash, buying groceries, vacuuming, dusting, washing dishes, folding laundry, and taking hundreds of cards to the mailbox.
And while I realize all that sounds like really normal, boring stuff, what I never realized is that my mother is actually a messenger from God, sent pretty specifically to empty me out and pour Yeshua in … that would be
L-O-V-E in the most real way you could ever imagine.
Against all odds, she has continued to thrive and live her life to the fullest — even though the space grows smaller and smaller for her. Not a day goes that she doesn’t remind me that “today is the day the Lord hath made … we’re to rejoice and be glad in it.” And not a night passes without her telling me she loves me and that she’ll see me in the morning, “the Good Lord willing.”
It’s the marrow of life that becomes so precious when life, itself begins to hang in the balance. It’s the bittersweet process of learning how selfish you really are as you watch someone else who gives everything just to be with you. It’s the poignancy of the mundane that you know you’ll grope for when it is no longer. Oh Lord, my heart will never be unbroken.
But the thing that has changed the very meaning of Christmas for me, now and forever, is listening to my mother pray. Whether it’s blessing the food we’re about to eat at every meal or listening to her pray herself to sleep at night, I know I am witnessing something very sacred and holy. Her words are simple, but they sear deep into my heart and will smolder there forever. She prays for people she doesn’t even know who’ve been out doing evil the night before, and for anyone she does know who is suffering. She always prays for her family and for God to always bless the hands of those who are caring for her, including mine for making her breakfast or dinner. She’s always thankful for God’s provisions and blessings and ask that He forgives her — for what, I’m not real sure. She praises God for being such a good God, and that anyone lost would come to know Jesus before it’s too late. And then she finishes asking for His will, not hers, to be done. Amen.
I haven’t really bought gifts in three years. The tree we share is a small ceramic tree that belonged to my grandmother – it shines bright from the corner table in Mom’s living room. There are no parties or invitations really, because “it’s Covid.” But also, because people just know I’m not gonna show up. I’m where I’m supposed to be … good, bad, or ugly.
Jesus never came here to make things easy. It actually wasn’t very pretty how He got here, and was even uglier how He left. But man, those few years in between!!! He came into the world to change the world and that the world through Him might be saved.
This Christmas will be simple and quiet … just like the last few have been and continue to be more so. As we grow into this timing of our last dance, we savor our mother-daughter late night (for her) chats and our bedtime routines with the hope that tomorrow will, indeed, be a better day … on this side or the other.
And so, this is Christmas … forever changed, as am I.
Merry Christmas!
December 24, 2021, 2:10 AM
