First and foremost, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.
To be honest, mine wasn't that great, as far as ideal Christmases go. My husband had to be at work at 4:00 am. Both my kids were up at 6:00... Louis' nose is a snot faucet and Melody has no voice whatsoever. Andy finally got home at 10:30, and we opened gifts with the kids, had a quick lunch, and everyone went down for a nap. I got a 3-pack of flashlights for Christmas from my husband, with a note saying "you're the light of my life." (rolling eyes in 3, 2, 1.....) The kids woke up early from their naps because they were coughing so hard. I assembled Melody's new fish-tank, which was the project from aquatic hell, if that place even has a proper name. Whining ensued all afternoon. Bath time couldn't have arrived quickly enough. Getting ready for his bath, I pulled down Louis' pants to discover he'd had diarrhea, which was now all over my hand. Two hours post-bath, one kid is now in bed, and the other is well on her way. Andy has developed a nasty cough in the past hour, and I've decided that I'm gonna sleep on the couch if I want any hope of a decent night's rest.
My therapist often reminds me that life isn't fair. I'm totally okay with unfair. But there are some days when it feels like life is flipping me off over and over again, and has an agenda to break my spirit. Days like today are normal for me. And to be truthful, it took me a shot of whiskey during dinner prep to make it through the entirety of this evening without inflicting bodily harm on someone in my household. And then (while the whiskey was still burning its way down my esophagus), I caught the line of a song on the radio. I can't quote it verbatim (the burning of the whiskey was probably impeding my short-term memory retention), but the gist is that "a humble entry into this world was enough for Christ." (cue squealing brakes noise now) I've sang Christmas carols at least 1000 times.... and have heard the Christmas story no fewer than 100. But today, the thought jarred my brain. It wasn't the thought of Jesus being born into a manger... I wrapped my mind around that a long time ago. Tonight, the question of "why was that enough for Him?" swirled through my brain. Like everything else Jesus did, this was a lesson to His followers. Not that it was the sole reason for being born in a manger, but I think part of the reason for being born into such stench, squalor, and humility was to show us that "stuff" doesn't matter. The circumstances of his birth were more than okay to Christ because the only thing that mattered to Him - and the only thing that should matter to us - is the knowledge that we are the sons and daughters of The LORD Most High, and partnering with God's mission on this earth. How ironic is it that two millennia later, we celebrate His birth by spending outlandish amounts of money to buy temporal gifts that we don't really need? Ironic, but mostly sad. God definitely gave me a good talkin'-to tonight... about how fish tanks and flashlights and crap on your hands don't matter. He matters. That's it.
God's been taking His sweet time in teaching me this lesson. He's spent the last 18 months or so stripping away everything that was comfortable, predictable, or status quo in my life. I was dismissed from my "dream job" last year, my marriage has been an uphill battle for the past several months, I feel like a week doesn't go by without someone in my family being sick, I can't get ahead with my finances.... nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, has gone according to my plan for as long as I can remember. And apparently it's been so I would learn that none of it really mattered in the first place. I echo Solomon's sentiments and say "Meaningless! It's all meaningless!" But I also agree with him when he sums up his thoughts on life: "The conclusion is this: Fear God, and keep His commandments." God. He's what matters. That's it. The end.
