Simple Gifts
And just like that, it’s Christmastime. The lights go up, the tree comes out, the knick-knacks and decorations resume their customary stations around the apartment. Suddenly, a place that felt so small and cluttered mere hours ago turns cozy and neat and perfect.
It’s in the way the tree stands in the corner, unapologetically cheery and bright. The way the stockings cascade across the wall, emblems of the glorious others who share this home. The dark night in the windows setting off the warm glow within. It’s hot chocolate and crackling fires, long road trips and tearful reunions and long talks over steaming mugs of coffee. It’s nostalgia satiated at last.
And it’s in the knowing of the Great Story. That a good king was actually good, and real, and humble enough to leave all the trappings behind to join us poor in the dirt and misery and feel what we feel and hurt how we hurt, and worse. Knowing that the Savior didn’t show up with the rich or the strong, the royals or the conquerors. He came first to the poor, the slaves, the outcasts. People living in a world they longed to change but had to live in as it was.
And knowing that — knowing that Jesus shows up for those in pain and lack, longing for a better future — floods my soul with a light that changes how I see everything, especially this seemingly tiny life.
If little was enough for him, then it’s enough for me.
