Why is Christmas Like this?
Why is Christmas season like this? Some people like the hustle and bustle. Some people love shopping and drinking peppermint mochas and baking cookies. Surprise surprise, I’m not that girl. I’m staring down the third Christmas party this week and not feeling especially merry about it to be honest. I’m leaving text messages unread, my work emails feel overwhelming, and I have zero desire to be touched by my husband or preschooler or toddler. The dishes are undone, the laundry is only half done, and I put the baby down for a nap early because I can’t handle momming right now. And my screen time reports are so off the charts it’s ridiculous. So much for peace on earth.
I imagine Jesus arrival wasn’t quite as peaceful as a nativity makes it seem. I would never say birth is peaceful. Birth is gruesome in a paradoxically beautiful way but even sinless children can cause vaginal tearing. Did he have a painful latch? Did she worry about if he was getting enough to eat? Who was there to support her breastfeeding journey? And then some strangers show up saying a bunch of angels who decided to give them a concert in the middle of the night told them where to find her so they could come mouth breathe on her newborn, who’s laying in a feeding trough because she had to take a last minute trip in her third trimester. I don’t think this was the kind of nesting Mary was picturing.
God does that though, doesn’t he? He inserts himself into human chaos. He doesn’t show up and say “Calm down, you crazy humans, wtf is wrong with you?” He shows up just to be with us. He becomes human to join us in our chaos. Maybe he’s here in my chaos. In the dishes and the laundry and the momming and the Christmas parties and Christmas shopping and holiday travel. Maybe it’s less about peace on earth (which feels like an insane idea given the news cycle lately) and more about peace in our souls. I don’t think I have time to “Slow down and reflect on the birth of Christ” as everyone likes to say this time of year, but maybe while the warm water runs over my hands while I wash dishes I can reflect on just how insane it is that the God of the universe built furniture before he was murdered for the sins of the world. Maybe when we drive around and look at Christmas lights I can think about how ridiculous it is that three grown men followed a *star* around for a long time until they found a 2 year old in a random city in Israel and inadvertently caused his exile. Maybe as I hold my (mostly) non verbal 1 year old, as he drinks his milk I can reflect on how the infinite God needed his mother to meet his basic human needs.
Damn.
