In the light of recent tragedies, my desire to create a stunning, memorable and holy Christmas this year has paled.  A little.  Yet, if I'm honest, the desire does remain in tact just a breath beneath the surface.  Last year, at the peak of my pre-Christmas angst, I journaled my internal tug of war.  With hope—and as a gift to all out there like me who are feeling the pressure of longing to create a holy encounter for their loved ones this Christmas—I want to share my entry.

Desperately

I feel such a compulsion to strive, to reach for entrance into the place where memory meets longing meets wonder meets fulfillment.  A way to touch transcendence and meaning and connection.

If I bake enough cookies and the house is filled with decorations and lights and boughs of evergreen, will our world, our home, our family be secure in the love and light of God?

Can I carol and wrap my way into the time of my childhood when I carried no responsibility for beauty or Santa or Jesus?  Can I create an experience where I connect my past with my families present and the world will be lovely and safe and filled with a foundation of unshakable love?

We dress up our homes and neighborhoods in lights and bows and nostalgia reaching for hope and a better world.  How do I get there with my family?  If we go to midnight mass?  If we dress up for Christmas dinner?  If we continue with our family traditions of waffles and berries and whipped cream for breakfast and an ornament in our stocking, will we know we are connected to our past and will therefore be connected in our future?  That there is a future that is good.  

Will we then know that there is a coming where hope and longing and promise are fulfilled?  And it's lovelier than twinkly Christmas lights.  

Where all is gained and nothing good is lost and Jesus is at once the Babe in the manger and the Warrior on his steed.  The lion and the lamb will lay down together.  And the fragrance of sugar cookies baking will carry only the scent of satisfaction instead of hunger.  

Where my mother is alive and my father is young and laughing.  My husband's eyes are dancing and my sons know they are seen and loved.  And all our hearts are embraced and known and know that all is better then well.

That's the Christmas I want.

The best moments of the past, the memory of what should have been married to the beauty and depth of what could be - become one.  With perfectly wrapped packages under the tree and each one being opened bringing deeper delight.  Endlessly.  Endlessly.  Endlessly."

Dear ones, may your holidays indeed be holy days filled with both joy and the hope filled promise that every good thing you long for is coming.  It is coming.  We can't wrap our way into that truth but we can receive it.  We can receive him—the Babe and the Warrior, the Lion and the Lamb.  Jesus.  Hallelujah and Amen.  Happy receiving and Merry Christmas!