I’m feeling it. That latent yet definite sense of panic that rises in every mom’s heart 24 hours before THE day. Reason tells me it will come and go whether every last detail is covered or not (and who cares if they’re not). But my emotions and mental “to do” won’t shut up.

So I do what I’ve been doing all season. Since Thanksgiving. I give thanks.

It calibrates my soul.

Anchoring it to truth. And peace. And what my heart knows really matters.

And I hear words like this . .

“He comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found.”

In the midst of celebrating His birth, I desire peace. And happiness. No harsh words. No tired, bickering children. No tired, grumbling momma. Then I wake up.

This curse. For all my wanting I can’t escape it. It stains my soul and too many of my actions. But His blessings flow as far as my sin. Even farther. No wonder the angels said they were bringing good news!

“Pleased as man with men to dwell.”

Not to just come and visit. But to take on flesh. Human form. And feel. All our heartache. And joy.

“Deep desire of every nation. Joy of every longing heart.” 

He is the desire. The longing. The ache that has no name. The hunger that refuses to be filled by anything but Him. The creator unwilling to forsake His lost creation.

“This holy tide of Christmas all others doth deface.” 

Oh, yes. His clarion call to our culture every twelfth month . . this holy tide. Can you hear it beyond the lights, the gifts, the noise? He’s calling you by name.

Inviting you to experience the heart of Christmas.

Him

repost