I'm not gonna lie, Christmas is not my favorite season. And it's not because of the barren winter weather, or the lack of sunlight, or even the gingerbread houses and trees and traditions.
Simply put, I just don't like the rush - the hustle and bustle from one party to the next, feeling exhausted by December 9th because Christmas prep starts as soon as Halloween ends.
This year I've had the odd experience of being in the 'business owner' world, so for me, I was designing Christmas cards the first week of November. And then showing my art at Christmas markets and Santa Breakfast.
While I'm thankful for these opportunities, I've just felt so... forced? Hurried? Frazzled?
I don't know how I've felt, in all honesty, but all I know is that I'm longing for the still, slow moments right after a freshly-fallen snow. When all is calm and all is bright.
I've long-since thought that God gives us snow to make us slow down -
Mute the busy-body noise as everyone takes shelter from the cold.
Enjoy the purity of the Lord's cleansing blanket of white.
Bask in the simple wonder of snowmen and sledding and forts and angels.
I don't know about you, but I could use more of that. Between the gobbling of Thanksgiving and the gatherings of Christmas, I feel like our world is failing to slow. Pause. Notice that the true meaning of Christmas isn't about a vague, fantastical warm-and-fuzzy spirit of good cheer...
But a Spirit of grace. And the greatest Gift of all.
Perhaps we could learn a thing or two from the kiddos who long to play outside, who see the snow as a wonder instead of a nuisance.
Perhaps we need to think less about stocking-stuffers and Santa and sales...
And more about the One who was, is, and always will be. Because, friends, that's the best part:
We may be rushing, but He is not. All you have to do is spend a minute outside, in His barren-but-still-beautiful creation, to realize that.
The wind still brings the aroma of earth, the trees still stand tall, the birds still twitter and chirp and trust in the Father to provide. Even the flowers, though they may be gone, have seeds that remain - waiting patiently for Him to raise them up.
We may stop celebrating His birth by December 26th, but really, reminders of His wonderous, miraculous, merciful births are all around us.
Our own rebirths - as we follow Him and are transformed by His blood - are reminders too.
They call us to be still, breathe in that crisp winter air, and be warmed from the inside out. By Him. The Maker and Lover of our souls.
Comments