December

I doubt that I'm alone in that December is one of my favorite months of the year.

It's not because I like the temperature. (I don't.)
It's not because I like how little daylight we get. (I don't.)
It's not because I like snow. (I do for about a day.)
It's not because I like overindulging in Christmas cookies. (Okay, I do in the moment, but it's always quickly regrettable.)

I love December because a hush seems to fall over me this time of year; a purposeful pause; a deep soul inhaling and exhaling. I always mean to live life in a peace-centered way, but the truth is that some seasons (quite literally) feel more pressured than others.

There's something about December that begs for lingering around a simple dinner table just a few minutes longer.

Something that stops me short in my normal routine and cries out for little opportunities to be woven throughout the day in order to better cherish the people around me.

I wrap myself in a blanket first thing in the morning and open my Bible and here by the tree I find myself considering afresh the kind of God I serve: generous, faithful, pursuing, redemptive. And maybe it's the mood-lighting but really I think it's just that I am rehearsing the Gospel again that makes my eyes fill with tears and my heart fill with hope once again.

I fill the house with candles and freshly baked smells, and there are secret whispers and hesitantly expressed wishes and holiday music. Together, we share these things.

I find myself reaching out more to all those I love this time of year, His expression of reaching out compelling me to a love offering of the same kind. The coffee pot is ready, the cookie tins are filled, the door is open.

Children, their eyes bright, their excitement at times too exuberant (!), their hearts hopeful, their embraces ready.

I pass on the traditions and hope that the traditions in and of themselves never become a burdensome requirement, but simply that they will be memories cherished, truths illustrated, a celebration made big.

Special stacks of Christmas books and stockings hung in a row and-- oh my!-- red beaded garland here and orange and clove garland there and mistletoe garland yet there. Rehearsing music and planning parties. Quiet nights with the agenda cleared.

This is what December means to me:

A Baby, born of a virgin, destined for a Cross. His pain inevitable, His victory certain. God incarnate, with us, with me, here and now and forever and always.

Me, remembering what it's all about, falling in love with my Savior again, growing surer in Who He is and less concerned with who I am, wanting everything about me and my existence-- especially in this season-- to echo the joyous cry:

Glory to God in the highest!

And on earth peace, goodwill toward men.