Hot and Sour Soup

Once again, not what it’s about. But the analogy stormed in. When we order Chinese, Steve always gets some. And the name of it always intrigued me. Because how can it be both? And yet, he assures me that it is.

And Christmas hits us in much the same way – exciting yet painful, sweet yet mournful, peaceful but stressful. Every year I live in anticipation of the season. Labor Day promises fall, which delivers the holidays. Then I get into it and I begin to remember the painful parts. And sometimes I’m even ready for it to be finished before it can get rolling.

I remember being twelve or thirteen and a powerful sadness settling over my Christmas. No, it had nothing to do with Santa – that was much earlier. It had to do with a realization that there were no real surprises left. Oh I could, and would, receive many wonderful gifts. But I think I had come to the understanding that stuff didn’t cut it, that there was really nothing I could receive that would bring lasting happiness.

I was a believer then, had been since I was a little girl and my faith was important to me. So I knew that I had the one thing in my life, Jesus, that would get me though anything. Perhaps it was that I now knew that Christmas was indeed meant to be lived thoughout the entire year and I also knew that it could not and would not be.

The irony for any woman who buys gifts, decorates, and bakes is that there will never be enough time to do it all and still sit for hours with friends and loved ones watching the Hallmark channel and munching home-baked cookies and candy. (Probably just as well.) Childhood tricks us. As children, we yearn for the day. And beginning two or three weeks in advance of the 25th, time slows to molasses. We believe it will never come.

Then we grow up and remember that feeling. And we want it back so we can fill it with made-for-tv Christmas movies and Kodak moments with family. I used to talk to my mom about my frustration and she would say, “Christmas is just a day.” And I would mentally call her Scrooge. Yet I have never known a less Scrooge-like person. She truly comes to mind when I read about the widow’s gift (Mark 12:42-44). She had so little; yet everything she received passed through her hands to someone else.

As I get older, I realize what she meant. Certainly, she intended the obvious that we need to practice our faith daily, year-round. But more than that, there is only so much cooking and celebrating we can do, can even tolerate, before it’s time to celebrate the day. And usually that season before comes with a mixture of nostalgia, excitement, pain of loss, loneliness, and joy. And once again, my Father understands exactly how I feel.

On that night so long ago, heaven must have surely been a place of mixed emotions. The angels must have experienced sadness as they bid farewell to their precious Jesus. Our Father probably felt great pride and joy as His Son left the glory of a throne, prepared to step into the skin of a tiny, defenseless baby. Yet He must also have grieved as the plan was set in motion to save us all by His ultimate death on a cross.

A strange Christmas greeting to you, I know. But I guess the message is, whatever you are going through as you read this, know that your Lord has felt it, understands it and feels it with you. Have a peaceful, joy-filled Merry Christmas!

John 3:16
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.