Tag Archives: Christmas

The Word Became Flesh. . .

I want to take a brief moment this Christmas Eve to remind you all of something that I needed to be reminded of this year: Emmanuel. I’ve heard about the incarnation so many times that it’s easy to forget what a miracle it was.

The God who is spirit (John 4:24) became flesh (John 1:14) in order to be accessible to us.

Flesh and blood, capable of dying, and willing to die. (Philippians 2:5-11)

In a year full of tragedy, fear, and isolation, let’s take a moment to reflect on the God who came to be with us. The God who is always with us. The God who left heaven for us and died to get close to us.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God. . . The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:12, 14)

Submit yourselves then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you.” (James 4:7-8)

Emmanuel

We went to our church’s Christmas Eve service yesterday evening. Partway through worship someone got up and spoke, and he talked about the wonder of Christmas. I like to think I’m good at wonder, but when I tried to imagine the first Christmas again, I somehow couldn’t. It was too hard to think about the darkness, the stable, the first-century clothes. There was too much music, too many lights, too many people.

The moment wasn’t right, and the magic never happened. But in that moment, I hung on to what I knew:

Emmanuel–God with us. The God who gave up everything to be close to us. The God who can sympathize with our weakness. The God who is still there, even when I can’t see Him or feel Him or touch Him or when I push Him away.

When Simon Peter told Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man,” Jesus answered him, “Don’t be afraid.” And Peter left everything to follow this God (Luke 5:8-11, NIV). Emmanuel is God with us; today, tomorrow, and every day, if we’ll only let Him.

The most important thing about Christmas is that it gives us a second chance to be close to our Creator.

God and sinners reconciled.

For Each of Us: A Short Christmas Story

Snow crunched under Mom’s tires as we pulled into Miss Melissa’s driveway.  The last time I had been here, there’d been a For Sale sign in the yard, but they had taken it down.  I don’t know why it surprised me; no one would buy a house in mid-December. I wasn’t sure what Miss Melissa would do; I didn’t think she could really afford to live here anymore.

Mom turned to me as she pulled the key out of the engine.  “Thanks for coming, Emily.”

“Of course,” I responded.  I never had enough to keep me busy over Christmas break.  Mom hadn’t let me drive because of the snow, but I supposed that was reasonable: I didn’t have much experience driving—no thanks to winter birthdays.

The snow crunched under our feet as we climbed out of the van, slamming and opening doors.  Mom balanced the tupperwares of soup on her arm and I grabbed the pan of cinnamon rolls and we started for the door.  The front steps hadn’t been shoveled or salted, and we climbed them slowly. Miss Melissa had the door open before we could knock, taking containers from Mom and telling us to come in out of the cold.

“Do you mind taking off your shoes?  Thank you so much. New carpet and everything. . .”

The split entry felt claustrophobic at first, like split entries always did (especially in winter).  My fingers were chilled, even from the short walk from the car. Miss Melissa hovered at the top of the stairs, cradling the soup.  “Ethan, go take that pan from Emily,” she told one of the deadpan children peering through the railing from the living room.

“Oh, I’m good,” I assured her, struggling out of my last snow boot.  Mom and I followed her up the stairs and toward the kitchen.

“Hey,” I greeted Hailey and Ethan as we passed them.  “Do you remember me from the block party—with my church?  There was face-painting and a bouncy house.”

Hailey stared.  Ethan nodded vaguely.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Miss Melissa told Mom as she set the tupperwares on the kitchen table.  I put the cinnamon rolls down beside them.

“Oh, I know we didn’t,” Mom said brightly.  “But it’s Christmas.”

Christmas, to my mother, had always meant good food.  We had more Christmas cookies in our house than we had counter space for—every December.

“Mom’s tomato soup is always a favorite,” I said, hoping it would help.  I didn’t want Miss Melissa to think we were trying to be good Samaritans.  We always brought everyone food—not just single moms.

“Did you get that bedroom painted?” Mom asked.

Miss Melissa laughed self-consciously.  “Yes, and now I’m not sure about the color.”

“Can I see it?”

Mom followed Miss Melissa down the hallway, leaving the kids in the kitchen with me.  They watched closely as I sat down on a kitchen chair.

“How old are you guys?” I asked, pleased to have them to myself; they couldn’t get a word in edgewise around their mom.

“Eight and a half,” Ethan said.  His tone was careful, like he was hoping eight and a half was old enough.

“I’m six,” Hailey informed me.

“Cool!” I said.  “I just turned fifteen.”

I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and realized I still had a candy cane in one of them, under my mittens.  The pocket-sized kind. I wished I had two, so I could give them Hailey and Ethan. I heard Mom saying something very earnestly from down the hallway.  What else could I ask the kids. . . “What’s your favorite part of Christmas?” When they didn’t answer right away, I volunteered, “Mine is cooking with my Mom.  And decorating for Christmas. Especially our nativity—it’s always been my job to set it up.”

Hailey frowned.  “What’s a nati. . . na. . .”

“It’s where Jesus was born,” Ethan offered promptly.  “With Mary and Joseph, and the donkey, and, uh. . .”

“You don’t have one?” I asked.

Ethan shook his head.

“What if we try to make one?” I suggested.  “Do you have dolls, Hailey? Toy figures? We’d need a baby. . .  I can make one, if you can get me a Kleenex. And. . . And a spoon? A small one.”

Ethan grabbed a baby spoon from a drawer, clunked it down in front of me, and ran out of the room—hopefully to get me a tissue.  I turned to Hailey. “Do you have a doll? That could be Mary?” She looked around the room thoughtfully, then nodded with sudden confidence and scampered off.

Ethan returned with a Kleenex wadded in his fist.  I wrapped it around the spoon to make a swaddled baby.  “Do you have a box?” I asked him. “A small one—for a manger?”

“Hailey does!”  And he dashed out again.

He returned with a purple jewelry-box, trailed by Hailey, who was cradling a Barbie doll.  The doll was wearing Snow White’s dress, but I was ninety-nine percent sure it was Sleeping Beauty.

“She’s my prettiest one,” Hailey said proudly.

“Can Mary wear a crown?” Ethan asked, as he handed me the box.

I was pretty sure Mary hadn’t.  I was also pretty sure Mary hadn’t been blonde, but most nativity scenes ignored ethnicity anyway.  “She’s a great Mary,” I said, “as long as she’s brave enough.”

“Brave?” Ethan said skeptically.

“Of course!” I assured him.  “God wouldn’t have given her such a special mission if she wasn’t brave.”

I put Baby Jesus in the jewelry-box and carefully sat Mary down on the table beside him.  “Now we need Joseph. Do you have any boy dolls, Hailey?”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly.  “I don’t like them.”

I wondered if she disliked any doll that wasn’t a Disney princess or if she disliked boys in general.  All I asked was, “What else could we use for Joseph?”

“I don’t think we need Joseph,” Ethan said thoughtfully.

My parents had always told me God had known that Jesus needed a Dad too, but I couldn’t say that.  My Dad was at work, spending his Saturday there so he could spend Christmas Eve with us. I wondered if Hailey and Ethan’s dad was gambling off all the money he’d taken with him, or if he had used it to go to the Bahamas and was living it up free and single, or if he had another wife and kids by now.

I let Joseph go.

“Can you get some toys to be the shepherds, and bring Jesus gifts?” I asked.

Hailey giggled and darted from the kitchen.  Ethan hesitated. “Don’t we need animals too?”

Technically the cow and the donkey were never mentioned in the Bible, and Joseph was.  But animals would help the nativity aesthetic.  “If you have any,” I told him.

Hailey’s contribution was a small plastic dog and a small plastic present, adorned with a plastic bow and a small white plastic bone.

That’s not the kind of presents they gave Him,” Ethan said, and Hailey squealed with laughter.  “They gave him gold,” her brother protested. “And. . . sheep.”

“You could fit a sheep in there,” I said, laughing.  “A small one.”

Hailey shrieked with delight and snatched her dog off the table, knocking Mary over in her haste.  Ethan righted her and added a felt horse, whose glass eyes were scuffed and creepy. It didn’t look like an animal that Sleeping Snow White Beauty would be caught dead on, but it was probably the closest thing we had to a donkey.  Ethan showed me a handful of faded army men.

“Can they come see Jesus?” he asked. His brown eyes narrowed.  “They don’t have a present.”

“Anyone can come see Jesus,” I said quickly.  I helped him line the soldiers up behind Mary, who sat with her long legs stretched out on the table in front of her.  All three of us surveyed our nativity scene. It seemed appropriately eclectic. Anyone can come see Jesus.  Hailey put the dog back beside the jewelry-box manger.  “Let’s leave it up forever!” she said.

Our mothers passed by the kitchen doorway.  “Emily, we better go!”

“Coming!” I called.  I looked at the table, crowded with containers of food and various toys.  “If your Mom says to clean it up, you better clean it up.”

They both frowned at me as I stood up.  I hoped I hadn’t caused too much trouble.  From the entryway, I heard Miss Melissa tell Mom, “I’m just not sure.  She’d keep them weekends too if I picked up more shifts.”

I pulled the candy cane out of my back pocket.  “This is for you. I only have one, but I can break it in half.”

Ethan took it from me.  Before I could protest, he broke off the crooked part, and then cracked the stick in half.  When he tore the plastic open, three uneven pieces and some candy-crumbs fell into his hand. He gave Hailey the biggest piece, put one in his own mouth, and offered the hooked one to me.

Three jagged pieces of candy—one for each of us.

At Last, The King

I started rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the umpteenth time this week. It’s just as good as I remembered, but nine chapters still sounds like an awfully long time to wait for Aragorn.

While I was spending my Christmas Eve curled up on the couch reading about hobbits, I realized how perfect a book it is for me to read during advent! I’m waiting for my king.

Christmas is the climax. The hero is coming tonight.

Are you paying attention?

He’s sitting in the corner, in muddy boots, with his hood low over his eyes.

Are you watching?

He’s far away from the glamour; a tiny baby, sleeping in a manger.

Are you ready?

“In the dark, in the shadows
“Light has come
“In the quiet, in the dead of night
“Glory, glory sang the angels in the highest
“At last, the king has arrived”

-“At Last, the King” by the Gray Havens

Good morning again

Good morning readers!  By the time any of you can read this scheduled post, it will be Sunday morning, and I’ll be on my way to church to find and hug my friends, and already missing my older siblings whose Christmas break from college has finally run out.

Man! has it been too long.  As a writer, I wanted–of course–to post all through December, about gifts and Jesus and the real meaning of things, and maybe write a short Christmas story: the whole shebang.

Needless to say, none of that happened: I posted once about Christmas, and left my blog to its fate.  I read Pride and Prejudice in two days (it was exhausting but I cannot put that book down for the life of me!) and I re-read A Christmas Carol just for the giggly Christmas-feels.  I stressed about life while simultaneously abandoning the real world, and I epic-ly failed at giving Christmas presents.  I stayed up late unloading my heart on my family and crying (more than once), and I wrote several thousand words in a messy first draft of “Nieo & Star”.

Christmas break was a whirlwind, and sadly included no blogging.  I’m back to school now, but we’ll see how it goes.  Maybe I’ll be back.

‘What do you mean?’ he said.  ‘Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?’ (13)
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

(Side note: if you say that quote replacing good morning with merry Christmas, you sound like Scrooge.  Just try it.)

Good morning, my good hobbits!  And a late merry Christmas, whether you want it or not.

‘Tis the Season

Mom poked her head into the kitchen.  I was making room in the fridge for the turkey and rice soup we had just enjoyed (Thanksgiving leftovers put to good use).  “Are you good, or do you want to drop it and help us?”

“I’m good,” I said.  I enjoy cleaning, and the kitchen was quiet.

They were decorating our newly-scored Christmas tree.  I was cleaning up after dinner in the half hour I had left before dance class.  It felt like I should be in the living room, even though it wasn’t really a family occasion–Spencer is back to college in another state, and Becca was at church.  The darkness outside that evening made the lights inside seem cozy.  I gave it up –I squeezed the soup pot into the fridge and headed for the living room, navigating the un-swept floor.  What was I doing by myself in the kitchen anyway?

I got down on my knees and started helping attach wire hooks to our glass balls.  I back and forth ran from the bin of decorations to the Christmas tree, and there and back again.  The glitter stuck to my jeans and my hands.

“I love this color scheme,” I said, looking over our fir, which was turning into a pillar of red and blue and silver.

“Good.”  Mom smiled.  “That makes me happy.”

She had turned on this gorgeous, gentle, instrumental music and the whole thing felt magical.  If there’s one thing that gives me nostalgia, it’s Christmas music.

I love Christmas, and I’m so excited for this new Christmas season.  Happy December, readers!

A post-Christmas post of ramblings

I should have realized how much Cat’s Forest would take over when I decided to post it almost everyday, in the busiest month of the year.  But I of course I didn’t.  Anyway, I didn’t post about Christmas much, except for my story.  I might do some deeper Christmas posts now, after the fact; but I think this was mostly a year of Catania, and that’s okay.

In the meantime, you should read this post that a fellow blogger of mine posted yesterday:

He’s Here: The Christ Candle ~ Ramblings of a Writer

This authoress has mastered the art of word-craft, and this post is simply beautiful.  The peaceful flow of the words is pleasant and calming, and it paints a crystal clear picture of the starry nightfall of the first Christmas.  You should read it.

 

Hopping down an unrelated bunny-trail, do y’all know about the whole “elf on a shelf” thing?  Well, my Mother found this, and I couldn’t help but share it:

So awesome, I really have no words.  I lost Santa elves about the time I found Middle Earth. 🙂

Merry Christmas, readers!!  Thanks for reading my rambles.

A Gift

It’s Christmas!!!  The greatest gift in the world was given today!

And that’s why Christmas is a time of giving.

So I thought I would post these now, as a present to all my faithful readers.  These are three pictures I drew of things in The Sacrifice, and I thought I would post them to tide you guys over.

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Unfortunately, I wasn’t considering the Christmastime busyness when I planned our fall/winter schedule, and I haven’t been getting in as much writing and editing as I had hoped.  And editing is turning out to be a bigger job than I had expected, and I’m considering leaving out a character because he doesn’t play a very major role.  So. . . The Sacrifice might be a little later than I thought.  I’m very sorry, and I’ll get it up here as soon as I can.

Thank you all for your patience and your enthusiasm!

★ ★ ★  Merry Christmas!!★ ★ ★

The Word Made Flesh

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning.  Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.  In him was life, and that life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. . . The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.  We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

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-John 1:1-5, 14

Christmas Cheer

I drew a couple pictures recently, and then realized they were a little Christmas-y, so I thought I would post them.  Enjoy!

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I was inspired to draw this squirrel when we left a cup of tea outside by mistake (a while ago, when it was much warmer!), and I found the teabag torn open like something had tried to eat the tea-leaves!

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But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

-Luke 2:10, 11