Christmas Morning: Desiring Rest



The child longs for perfectly presented objects of desire placed underneath the twinkling lights and all the time in the day; for normal life to cease and fantasy land to commence, the imagination alive with possibility.

Anticipation mounts the joy. Mystery multiples the wonder.  Hugs are sweeter. The air is thick. It is confirmed: life is good.

As a mother now, I work for this moment. I worry too much. I scurry too much. My mind races to the next thing, so as to keep the world turning with my preparation.

This Christmas morning, I desire not the perfectly presented object of desire. I desire to ensure these eyes still work for more than scanning the horizon; these feet still move for more than plodding forward; these hands can still be open, tender, and available enough to hold and be held.  I desire real permission to rest that allows this human flesh to feel new again.

God, the great transformer, chose human flesh to hold divine content.  This news grants permission to rest.  This news assures me that my scurrying is never heavy-laden.  My worrying and laboring are not to save the world, merely to help in its turning.

I rest for I remember that mothering and resting are not competitive activities.

I rest my flesh in honor of this truth which sounds like absurdity, but whose very absurdity is saving my life.

I rest in a Christmas truth that is more than a temporary fantasy land.  It is the reality whose truth, power and love insist upon dwelling among us.

This morning I pray for all who gather near the twinkling lights to seek rest, may God ignite our flesh to be filled with divine light so that the hugs are sweeter, the air is thick, and it can be confirmed: Life is good.

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