I want a Christmas that whispers “Jesus.” Ann Voskcamp   

The Christmas spirit is stealthily creeping into my heart this year almost against my will. That’s what it does, even when we think we’re not ready. It’s been a different kind of year filled with injuries and physical therapy, x-rays, and tests, the kind of year that people our age often experience. But, overall, Ken and I’ve been blessed with reasonable health through the years and I’m afraid I can’t say I’ve always shown grace and optimism during this less-than-healthy season of our lives. Not only have we dealt with our own physical ailments, it’s also been a year of loss; loss of good friends, loss of neighbors, loss of the physical freedoms we once took for granted.

Although it’s been my tradition for many decades to drag out all the Christmas decorations on Black Friday, even before commercialism turned it into Black Friday, I confess to a little concern that lots of bending, stretching, and lifting would cause one of us extra injury. So, when Thanksgiving ended, I was ready to put away the fall décor and enjoy a little normalcy for a few days.

The season of Advent means there is something on the horizon the likes of which we have never seen before….what is possible is to not see it, to miss it, to turn just as it rushes past you.

And you begin to grasp what it was you missed…

Jan l. Richardson, Night Visions: Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas

But Jesus has gently whispered that it was time to download all my favorite Advent devotional books and I even discovered a new one to add to my ever-growing collection. He also nudged me to resource ideas for writing, knowing that I have to consider the topic of Advent before many of you because I must be ready to meet timely deadlines. Somewhere along the way, I toyed with a couple of ideas for family gifts, they’re all so hard to shop for because of their distance from us. We don’t have those day-to-day interactions that leave us with little hints as to what they like. And then, there is also the big, bad generation gap. But really, I just wasn’t quite into it.

A few days later, my conscience finally got the better of me as I walked past my staging area of Christmas baubles in the garage. I knew that I needed to get started. I wouldn’t want the joy of Christmas to just pass me by.

Sometimes I’ve been asked, and I’ve even asked myself, why we place so much emphasis on glittering décor at Christmas time. After all, it is the birth of Jesus, the Christ Child, that we celebrate. Shouldn’t we be more humble and praise-filled? The answer is, yes, we should. The truth is that I decorate for Jesus. His birth was a lowly affair with only Mary, Joseph, and a gritty collection of animals and shepherds in attendance. Of course, the angels created quite a fanfare but, by and large, no one came to celebrate. There was no cake, there were no games, no gifts. No, the Wise Men didn’t come that night bearing gifts. That’s a story for later. There were just a lot of smelly animals and smelly shepherds. Even the parents of the Child were probably a little ripe after their long sojourn. So, I, in all my wisdom, have always chosen to light up the rooms with all manner of lovely things in honor of my King, and though I have cut back in recent years, I always decorate for Him, not for other people. I want to celebrate Him because knowing Him fills me with true joy.

Our tree will be covered in memories of our lives together and even before we were together, memories gifted to us by the One who loves us most. You’d find scenes of the Holy Birth scattered throughout our living area. The music looping through my brain will lean heavily toward Christian carols. Each year is just like the ones past in many ways, but there have been subtle differences. Along the way, we’ve added in-laws and grandchildren, but still no great-grands. We’ve added friends and neighbors. And we’ve grown in our relationships with the one whose birth we honor. On that holiest of nights, we’ll gather with others to sing and pray, to commune at His table, and to know, beyond a doubt, that the tiny Baby sleeping in a lowly manger would grow up to be the man nailed to a tree, not a tree festooned in lights and baubles, but the tree that brought hope to the world and still gives us hope today.

I think I’ll be content to let Christmas continue to creep up on me this year in a series of lovely, quiet whispers. I want to savor it in ways that I haven’t before and prepare myself for whatever the next season of this life holds, knowing that He is with me every step of the way.

I want a Christmas that whispers “Jesus.” Ann Voskcamp