Eighteen years ago tonight, this dude kissed me on his couch. I remember it clearly — sweet and soft and slow, Explosions in the Sky playing in the background, two baby boys sleeping soundly down the hall. Afterward, he pulled away from me and whispered, “I wasn’t supposed to do that.” He wasn’t wrong… most would agree we were neither right nor ready for each other. But alas, the heart wants what it wants and sometimes, that’s miraculously enough for God to do his thing.
In addition to attempting to ski in 2 degrees and attempting to cook the Chinese food we traditionally ate in the south on Christmas Eve, I took a trip down memory lane this weekend. This consisted of me cramming myself into the tiny closet beneath the stairs, “the book nook,” which houses all of my old Instagram posts in sweet little hardcovers.
Glass of wine in hand, I read through every December dating back to 2010, and discovered a few thematic elements in my writing. First, I have always treasured this day more than Christmas itself. Second, I have typically selected a great nail color for the holiday season. Third, I have consistently carried heavy and complicated feelings due to some sort of rough season I’d survived in the months leading up to the holiday.
As hard as I’ve tried to dismantle and deconstruct my faith over the years, I cannot shake the character of God, nor the life of Jesus. While I often fail to recognize and represent both in the everyday chaos around me, the character of God and the story of Jesus read plain and true to me in the Scriptures. They are my firm foundation, in a world that often leaves me feeling cracked and crumbling.
It’s been a pretty fantastic 24 hours. Merry Christmas!
Going through my old writing to remind myself of how I’ve felt during Christmas seasons past, and I’ve discovered a theme. This post sums it up nicely, I think.
Just for funsies and out of mad respect for the historical implications, my family is learning to observe Hanukkah this year. Tonight’s prayer is my favorite.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.
I surprise myself every time I reference my baby and someone asks about her age. Good gracious, she’ll be ten on her next birthday. And then we attend events like our church staff Christmas party tonight and hold actual babies and remember how intense those years were and how quickly they’ve passed. I miss those days and I love the ones I’m in now.
Happy December. May I finish this year stronger than I started it, saying real things and loving folks as best as I can.