It’s over.

I’m sitting among the ruins of Christmas Day: the leftovers, the melted drinks, the burned down candles, the bits of wrapping paper still stuck in the carpet, the stomach ache of too many good things. Everyone’s sleeping and vegging, in some various form of the Christmas coma.

We made it. We made it all 25 days until Christmas. Through the shopping malls and the parking lots, through the programs and recitals, through the long lines and late nights, the complications and disappointments, the expectations, big and small joys, the moments of peace and disaster, craziness and calm. We made it through December.

Along the way, we prepared and planned both outwardly and inwardly. Last Sunday, my pastor preached about how we spent the month getting our hearts ready for the baby Jesus. Cleaning out the sin and the misplaced priorities so that our hearts would be ready to receive him when he came.

And now he’s here.

I experience it every year when I sit among the ruins of another Christmas gone: the letdown. Even though it’s been a crazy month, I’ll miss all the lights and music. I’ll miss the quiet time of reflection every night while I was writing. I’ll miss the expectation, the holiday buzz, the excitement written all over my children’s faces. I’m sad it’s all over. Now what?

My pastor ended his sermon with a beautiful thought, one that I scooped up and held tight. I knew I’d be needing it tonight. He said, “Christmas is just the beginning. Christmas is just the beginning of the story of our salvation.”

It’s just the beginning! It isn’t the end! When we come off this holiday high, we leave all the outward trappings and buzz behind, but we carry Jesus with us into the new year. He is here. He’s in our hearts. The more we focus on that during the month of December, the less we experience the holiday letdown. If we’ve been focusing on Jesus coming…and he’s here…then we realize that we have so much to bring into the New Year.

I am amazed again and again of the parallels between the celebration of Advent and the waiting we as New Testament Christians do all year ’round. We are always in the advent season, really. No matter what the calendar says, we are always waiting for that second Christmas. We are always getting our hearts ready for him to come for the second time. And that Christmas, well it really will be just the beginning. The beginning of a celebration that has no letdown, no melted drinks, no farewells to family or friends, no disappointment or regret, no expectation unfulfilled, no hope unmet. What a Christmas that will be.

Immanuel, “God with us,” will have a whole new meaning.

“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3). 

It’s only the beginning, my friends.

Merry Christmas!

It was anything but quiet in my house today.

My children, overwhelmed with excitement, could not be contained. My daughter pounded out her Christmas carols on the piano, while my son pounded out those little plastic blocks from the Don’t Break the Ice game. The dryer was going. The dishwasher was going. The brother-sister spats were flying. And it was loud in my head, as I was wrapping up all the loose ends of work and Christmas preparations and packing, while refereeing and entertaining.

But then my son went down for a nap, and my husband and daughter fell asleep while reading Harry Potter…and the house was blissfully quiet. And I took advantage. I poured myself a glass of wine, grabbed my journal, and headed outside to put my feet up and just think. Just enjoy the quiet. Just think about this story:

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. ² (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) ³ And everyone went to their own town to register.

⁴ So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. ⁵ He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.⁶ While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, ⁷ and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

¹⁶ So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told (Luke 2:1-20). 

And to marvel at this mystery:

 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.² He was with God in the beginning. ³ Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. ⁴ In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome^[a] it.

⁶ There was a man sent from God whose name was John. ⁷ He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. ⁸ He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

⁹ The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. ¹⁰ He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.¹¹ He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. ¹² Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— ¹³ children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

¹⁴ The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

¹⁵ (John testified concerning him. He cried out, saying, “This is the one I spoke about when I said, ‘He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’”)¹⁶ Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. ¹⁷ For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. ¹⁸ No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and^[b] is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known (John 1:1-17). 

We all will hear these familiar words in church as we celebrate together tomorrow and on Christmas morning. We will worship. We will sing with our families and friends. The truth will ring out loudly among us.

But I’m also treasuring up these solitary, quiet hours on a Tuesday afternoon to ponder the fact that this story is for me. This Savior came for me.

Dear Lord, 

As I come to worship you this Christmas Eve and Day, please give me quiet moments to celebrate my personal relationship with you, too. Thank you for the opportunity to celebrate with my church, my family, and my friends. Thank you also for the quiet moments you give me to ponder the majesty and mystery of what happened when you came to earth to save me. Bless my worship. Accept my thanks. Forgive my distractions. Open my lips to sing your praise! In Jesus’ Name, Amen. 

Tonight, Ryan and I tucked the kids in together. He read How the Grinch Stole Christmas, as the kids snuggled up to him by the light of the tiny tree in my daughter’s bedroom. It was a little bit idyllic, and I did my best to capture the Kodak moment via Instagram filter.

As I sat there with my kids, in that cozy, peaceful moment, I couldn’t help but think of the Ginch-y things I did today. In no particular order: I whined, I complained, I snapped, I yelled. And inside my heart, I was unkind, rude, greedy, jealous, and prideful. There were moments when I let the real meaning of Christmas be dwarfed by my own preparations for it.

Throughout this season, every single day, it’s been the same. I’ve failed. As a mother, a wife, a friend, an employee, a daughter, a sister, a church member, a neighbor. I’ve missed out on opportunities to show love. I’ve taken opportunities to indulge temptation. I’ve thought, said, and done hurtful things. I’ve lost my cool. I’ve given up hope. I’ve placed my heart on all the things of this world, instead of heavenly things. I’ve failed miserably.

We all have. Inside, we’ve all got a Grinch, although the Bible calls it our old man.

Perhaps this is why Dr. Suess’s classic Christmas tale is a perennial favorite; it holds a kernel of truth. We see ourselves in the Grinch, don’t we? As much as we prefer to be the Whos down in Whoville, we more closely relate to the main character, the Grinch himself. It’s in us. By nature, our hearts are “two sizes too small.”

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).

But you know what’s amazing? No matter how Grinch-y we are or have ever been, us and the millions before us, not a one of us could stop Christmas from coming.

“He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME! 

Somehow or other, it came just the same!” -Dr. Suess

Praise be to God! There is nothing we can do to stop Christmas from coming. It will come, it has come, despite all of us and everything we have ever done. Jesus was born and laid in that manger thousands of years ago, a Savior who saved us with his life and changed our hearts with his love.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). 

No one can take this away from us: not our own Grinch-y selves, not anyone else on earth, not even the devil, “the old liar.”

And what is more, Christmas comes every year whether we are ready or not, whether we have plenty or are in want, whether we are healthy or dying, young or old, rejoicing or struggling. Christmas comes when the tree isn’t decorated right or the kids aren’t behaving or you’re out of your mind tired or you are depressed or anxious. And despite what we forget sometimes:

“It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes, or bags!”

It simply doesn’t matter if we’re ready or not, whether we’ve been Grinchy or not, Christmas will come and has come. This gospel is what causes our hearts to grow, to turn us from our Grinchy ways to the happy little monster whizzing through the morning light, down and away from our greed and selfishness, hate and pride…toward the world around us, spreading light and love and the good news that Christmas…IT CAME!

It came just the same.

Honestly? I have no idea what to write about right now. My brain is flat-lining, folks. It’s time for Christmas break, but I’m still a couple days away from it.

It reminds me of those long nights of studying in college, the ones during first semester exam week. Every part of you wanted to be on the road, in someone’s college beater car, on your way to home cooked meals, non-lofted beds, and weeks of blissful nothingness. But there you sat, in the library’s flourescent-lit computer lab, at 11:30pm, stretching every inch of your sorry brain to write something coherent about the literary themes in the book Beloved.

That’s how I feel right now. There’s nothing much coherent going on up there, just long lists of things I need to do before we hop on the plane. The thing is, there needs to be something coherent going on. I have five posts left until Christmas. So close, yet it feels so far away.

Makes me think of that line from Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.” For me it’s “just keep writing, just keep writing.”

Maybe you’re up against this feeling, too. Maybe you’re at the beginning of a long trip, running around the night before all the company arrives, kneeling before a pileful of presents to wrap. Maybe you’re starting a new job, just had a baby, caring for someone who is sick, or about to start another shift.

There are times, both big and small, when we feel like we just can’t keep going.

Back when everyone was waiting for the Messiah to come, I wonder if they felt at the end of their rope, too. It had been hundreds of years since a prophesy. Hundreds of years since the golden years of Isreal’s history. Hundreds of years of waiting for the promised Savior to appear, to see if everything God said would come true.

“Behold, days are coming,’ declares the LORD, ‘when I will fulfill the good word which I have spoken concerning the house of Israel and the house of Judah. ‘In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch of David to spring forth; and He shall execute justice and righteousness on the earth. ‘In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will dwell in safety; and this is the name by which she will be called: the LORD is our righteousness” (Jeremiah 33:14-16).

How they must have longed for Jesus! The promises about him were astounding. Yet hundreds of years, so many lifetimes of passing down those promises, must have held doubts and impatience, concerns and despair.

But God doesn’t leave us while we are waiting, no matter how doubtful or tired we become. Instead, he has so many promises for those who wait, for those who remain faithful:

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint (Isaiah 40:31).”

Music to my ears. When we are waiting or struggling here on earth, in matters big and small, God promises strength and comfort, beyond what we can imagine. Even though we can’t see with our human eyes, God is always here, working just out of our sight.

“From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him” (Isaiah 64:4). 

Just keep waiting. Just keep waiting.

“It will be said on that day, “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation” (Isaiah 25:9). 

Christmas, perhaps more than any other season, is the season of expectations.

I feel them. I know that I bring them on myself, more than feeling them from other people. I feel the expectation to make Christmas magical for my children. I feel the expectation to decorate, buy the perfect gifts, keep the household running while my husband keeps up with his extra busy work schedule this month. I feel the expectations to travel back to Wisconsin and to spend equal (down to the hour) time at each side of the family’s home. I feel the expectation to have my children behave during this crazy time.

I feel the expectations at work to still put out the same quality of work, no matter how busy or tired that I am from what December brings to my schedule. I feel the expectation to reach out, to give to others, to recognize the people in my life that help me the whole year ’round. I feel the expectation, even, to be cheerful and joyful and grateful and not be a Grinch.

I know that most of these expectations are purely ideas I press down on my own heart. I am blessed to be surrounded by supportive people: a helpful, low-key husband, two adoring, pretty chill kids, solid, I’m-there-for-you friends, great coworkers. And my family back in Wisconsin? They are understanding and loving to the end.

But still these expectations, real or imagined, linger. There’s this pressure to perform, to perfect, to make this a happy, fulfilling month for everyone around me.

I was talking to my friend, Kate about this the other day at the playground. Our kids were running around us, barefoot and crazy, she was nursing her baby on the park bench, and we were discussing the month that is December. She asked me, “Are you excited to travel back to Wisconsin?”

I answered, “Of course. I’m so, so excited to see my family. I miss them so much during the year.”

I also added, “It will be good. I think I’ve learned to lower my expectations for travel. I used to go back home and expect my children to behave perfectly so my family could see how smart and great they are. I used to expect everything to go smoothly and everyone to get along perfectly…because it’s Christmas and all. I used to expect to come home refreshed from time away. But I’ve lowered my expectations. The reality is that traveling during the holidays is stressful. My kids are out of their routine, it’s an emotional pressure cooker when everyone’s together, and traveling is tiring over the holidays. That’s the reality.”

My friend replied, on cue, “I’ve done that for my whole life, Dana!”

I laughed for five minutes straight. I was so relieving to hear someone else say that out loud. Life is rough. Life is full of beauty and good things…but also hard stuff and complications and…well…crap. As blogger Glennon Doyle Melton puts it, “Live is brutiful…brutal and beautiful.”

This is where Christmas comes in, to save the day.

Advent should not be the season of expectations, but of expectation. Singular. The expectation of our Savior, the one who relieves the pressure of all the expectations that we as humans struggle to fulfill, but can’t. It’s not about us being perfect, it’s about him being perfect. It’s about the forgiveness that is ours, not because of what we’ve done, but because of what Jesus did. That’s the expectation of Advent, the expectation of our salvation.

Advent should be about the thrill of knowing that he is coming. And when he does…well, I am sure of one wonderful thing:

Heaven will meet every single expectation I have of it.

I’m sitting in front of a small mountain of luggage, mostly packed. All that stands between me and the airport is this hill: suitcases, carry-ons, backpacks, blankies, camera case, purse, laptop, lunch box. My husband and I spent the day combing the house for a  whole set of Spiderman underwear, little black tights, a tangle of cords, pairs of mittens, and winter coats in storage….then doing piles of laundry, cleaning out the fridge, running errands, cleaning up wrapping paper, organizing gifts, canoodling every precious item into place and finally ruffling through the bills and receipts and preschool “treasures,” the paper trail of the past week.

Bleh. All this stuff.

Stuff we use to celebrate, stuff to give, stuff to pack, stuff to treasure as a memory, stuff to trash. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff.

It occurred to me that the reason I’m so tired of all this stuff is because I’ve spent the whole month dragging it around, whether that be decorations or food, presents or papers. All our family’s things. All my things.

It makes me think of my dad, who takes a two week vacation and packs two t-shirts, a set of underwear, and a good book. I admire him more and more as the years go on, because I think he has it right:

Pack light.

Don’t drag around too much stuff: not too many things of this world, not too many worries, not too many expectations, not too much striving. The things we should be spending our precious time on don’t weigh a thing: playing with our children, having a real conversation with our spouse, laughing with friends, helping out a loved one, appreciating nature, reading God’s Word, praying. These investments are so light, so freeing compared to the stuff.

When Mary and Joseph journeyed to Bethlehem, they packed light: probably just the clothes on their backs and some food, but they had it all because they had the Savior on that journey.

A Savior who freed us from having to make this world our everything, a Savior who saved us from all this stuff as a means to fulfillment, a Savior who gave us something more than all the stuff in the world combined: a restored relationship with our Father.

In light of this, everything else is seen as it is:

“What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage… (Philippians 3:8).”

And as we make our journey through this December and throughout our lives, we have it all no matter how much stuff we have. The enormity of our blessings in Jesus helps us to loosen our grip on this world and all it contains. It allows us to even keep our hands open, allowing God to give and take what’s best for us.

Christmas with all its stuff is good…and bad…depending on our attitudes toward all of it. If we drag it around, clench it so tightly, demand perfection, and seek to fulfill every expectation, we really end up with nothing but frustration. But if we seek our Savior, we can let go of this stuff, allowing it to come with thankfulness and delight or go with peace and contentment.

To travel through December, it’s simply easier to pack light, right Dad?

My daughter is hovering right on the edge. She’s starting to ask the questions, even though I see in her eyes that she knows the answers. Is Santa real? Is the Tooth Fairy? How about the Easter Bunny?

She’s a smart cookie, especially about all the logistics. She’s noticed that my handwriting looks suspiciously like the tooth fairy’s. She understands that I shop for all the Christmas gifts. She’s caught on to the fact that Mom and Dad always know where the Easter baskets are hidden.

She knows…but she’s hanging on, suspending disbelief. She’s playing along, because there is a corner of her heart that adores the magic and the mystery, the fun and games of it all. There’s a little corner of her heart that still wants it all to be true.

It’s a little heartbreaking, because I know it’s only the beginning of the end of this era for her. Soon she will start to let go of some of the things that childhood innocence allow us to do: believe, delight, thrill, be overcome with glee, hope.

I’m so happy that she gets to hang on to Jesus. That he, with all of his miracles, is 100% for real. We don’t ever have to let go of that, not as a child and not as an adult. The miracle of a virgin birth, the appearance of angels, the guiding star, the prophesies lined up and fulfilled…we get to keep it all, all of the time. And like my daughter, we get to hang on to everything that comes with the miracles of Christmas: belief and delight and the thrill of something we can’t quite understand, but is as real as real can be.

But the greatest miracle of Christmas is God’s love for us, that he came not just to be born and live here, but to die here, for us:

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5: 6-8). 

I can’t grasp this, but with words meant for a child, I can simply say, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

Lord, you are beyond my understanding. You are a God full of miracles and mystery, power and wisdom. Give me a heart of wonder and of child-like faith. I’m sorry for passing over the details of your greatness, for failing to ponder the reality of what happened at Christmas: the awe-filled story of God coming to earth in a virgin birth, surrounded by fulfilled prophesies and heralding angels. Thank you for the solid reality of your presence. Fill my heart with awe and wonder at your greatness. Thank you most of all for your love. In your name I pray, Amen. 

I just got back from my daughter’s Christmas program. It was one of the most beautiful programs I’ve ever had the privilege to watch, and I’m not just saying that because my daughter was a part of it.

It was all the singing. Such beautiful songs. It was hard to choke back the tears.

It was amazing how they sang, with such gusto, nothing holding them back. Hearts on their sleeves. With over 150 kids on stage, it was hard not to be blown away by the sheer force of their enthusiasm, their joy, and the freedom with which they sang.

And then I came home, tucked my kids into bed. My son was sleeping within seconds. I can’t believe how fast he drifted off, little snores notifying me that he wasn’t just sleeping, he was out.

That kind of rest amazes me. Drifting off in one minute flat, with not a care to keep his eyes open, not a worry circling his little brain.

I think children can sleep the way they do and sing the way they do because they’re all in. Their trust is so deep and pure that singing with all their hearts is not just an option, but the only option. And its the same with their sleep. Their child-like faith, so complete, doesn’t hang on to worry or care, doesn’t pause to doubt the truths they believe. Their peace is so perfect that their sleep, like their joy, comes so easily.

Can I get that back? Is it possible for an adult like me to sing like a child and sleep like a baby?

I hope so, because that’s what I’m going for.

Dear Lord, 

I’m sorry for hanging on to the worry you say I can let go of. I’m sorry for doubting you, for placing my trust in other people and things. As I contemplate the miracle of your birth, help me to let go. Help me to be all in. Lord, thank you for coming here, for saving me, so that I can be your child. Help me to praise you with the joy of a child. Help me to sleep in your heavenly peace. In your name, Amen.  

I know what you’re getting for Christmas this year. I have an “in.” And I know you are getting exactly what you want.

I know that the presents you are getting are really practical. You are going to find that they come in handy every day.

I also know your presents were really expensive. Whoever gave them to you must love you a lot.

And your gifts are pretty personal. The person who bought you these presents must be in your head, must know you really, really well.

Yep. I know what you’re getting for Christmas, because I also know what you want for Christmas.

I know that you want some security this year. You want to know that there will be enough time and money. You want to know that whatever happens, you’re covered.

I know that you hope everything up in the air will fall down into place. You want the assurance that everything will work out, just the way it’s supposed to, even if you have no clue how that will happen.

I also know that your conscience has been bothering you. I know that you feel bad about some of the things that you’ve done over the years. I know you feel like you’ve missed some great opportunities and failed some of the most important people in your life. I know that you feel like you don’t measure up. I know you think you’ve messed up too much or that some parts of your life are just too screwed up for help.

I know that you are lonely sometimes. I know that you need someone to talk to, and you wish there was someone who “got” you more. I know you wish that someone would love you just the way you are.

I know that what you’ve really wanted this year is to feel like you matter. I know you want to feel important. I know you want what everyone else wants: acceptance, love, the assurance that you are “okay” just the way you are.

I can’t wait to tell you, so I’m just going to spoil the surprise. Don’t worry, I know Who’s buying the presents, and He really won’t care if I tell you early.

You’re getting it all. Everything you’ve ever really wanted. It’s all under the tree this year.

The thing is, it’s not really under the tree you’re thinking of. This tree isn’t festooned with lights or ornaments. It’s pretty simple, pretty rough. Just two branches, really, one crossed over the other, but it’s the most beautiful tree I have ever, ever seen.

On that tree, all your sins were taken away. All of them. They are gone. All your mistakes, missed opportunities, shameful thoughts, shortcomings, and times you’ve fallen short.

Because of that tree, you don’t have to be lonely any more. You don’t have to worry about what happens next, even if that’s death.

Because of that tree, you can be assured that you matter. You are loved, just the way you are.

Yep. Everything you want for Christmas is under that tree: peace, hope, forgiveness. The most practical, personal, expensive gifts you could ever hope for.

Someone must know you really well. Someone must love you a lot.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”