My friend and I had a good laugh the other day. She stopped by my house because she left something in my car earlier. (Leaving things in my car is one of her habits.) When she arrived I handed her a Christmas card, which she opened right on the spot.
The card said, "All is calm. All is bright."
That's when we laughed because, friends, have you ever gone into Christmas thinking, "If I had to select one word to capture this season, it would be calm. All is calm. All of it."
I mean, I love singing Silent Night by candlelight each year at Christmas Eve service, but the lyrics trip me up. There's no way the original Christmas was calm, either.
These days, some of the lack of calmness is by our own doing, of course. The season brings a certain intensity. There are presents to wrap, cookies to bake, family to visit, friends to remember, and events to attend. If you're a parent, there are school parties where your children agreed to contribute popcorn or a fruit tray without telling you. These same children get embroiled in one, maybe two, Secret Santa gift exchanges with a group of their friends, and they'll let you know they need to buy a gift the night before.
Beyond that, some of the lack of calmness is circumstantial. In my line of work, everything amps up at the end — students desperately work to finish the semester by completing final assignments and professors desperately work to finish the semester by evaluating those final assignments and submitting final grades. In contrast, in my husband's realm of work (college football) everyone is desperately working to not finish, to keep progressing, to keep winning. Given the new playoff system, it's technically possible for teams to play seventeen games by the time the season is done. Exciting? Yes. Exhausting? Also yes.
I mean, I love singing Silent Night by candlelight each year at Christmas Eve service, but the lyrics trip me up. There's no way the original Christmas was calm, either.
These days, some of the lack of calmness is by our own doing, of course. The season brings a certain intensity. There are presents to wrap, cookies to bake, family to visit, friends to remember, and events to attend. If you're a parent, there are school parties where your children agreed to contribute popcorn or a fruit tray without telling you. These same children get embroiled in one, maybe two, Secret Santa gift exchanges with a group of their friends, and they'll let you know they need to buy a gift the night before.
Beyond that, some of the lack of calmness is circumstantial. In my line of work, everything amps up at the end — students desperately work to finish the semester by completing final assignments and professors desperately work to finish the semester by evaluating those final assignments and submitting final grades. In contrast, in my husband's realm of work (college football) everyone is desperately working to not finish, to keep progressing, to keep winning. Given the new playoff system, it's technically possible for teams to play seventeen games by the time the season is done. Exciting? Yes. Exhausting? Also yes.
I'm also fighting a stupid head cold, which is neither here nor there, but I thought I'd mention it.
All is not calm. It's never going to be perfectly calm — not at Christmas, not in life in general. In light of this, I'm grateful Christmas celebrates Emmanuel, God with us. Jesus walked this very earth, entered this very mess, wrote himself into this very story with the good news that he is the Prince of Peace and the King of Kings. He's with us.
My circumstances don't need to be calm for me to rejoice. I can find peace in the midst of it all — the final grading, the extended football season, even the stupid head cold — because God is with me.
All is not calm, but that's okay. I'm not alone. God is with me.