Breathing Room

Merry Christmas!  It seems like forever since I've posted.  Life has overwhelmed me with it's busyness.  Today, I had an unexpected break:  a breakfast I had planned had to be postponed due to the weather.  So ... I. Did. Nothing. 

Ahhhhh . . .

Ahhhhh . . .

Every year, I put myself through the same thing.  I can't just "decorate" for Christmas.  I have to DECORATE.  I don't have decorations that are already put together; a centerpiece for a table, a pre-made tree, etc.  No, no - I have to create it all.  It's different every year.

Every year I focus so much on the decorations I wonder if I'm wasting my time.
Every year I focus so much on the external that by the end of the season I have ... internal injuries.
Every year.  Every. Single. Year.

I usually begin planning my Christmas in September.  I write and rewrite lists, ideas, dreams.  I start bugging my husband about projects.  And none of this has anything to do with gifts - it's all about the house!

This year, I didn't have the time.  Taking two classes this fall, serving in ministry, being a wife and a mom - I just didn't have the time or energy to do the preparation.   Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend.  My son, who usually loves all the decorating and tradition, dumped me for Grandma's house.  (Can you imagine??)  I pulled up my decorations from the basement, and I just couldn't make any decisions.  I couldn't make anything work.

Usually, after I get everything decorated, I will say something like, "It looks like Christmas threw up in here."  But this year, it doesn't.  This year, it looks kind of serene. 

This year, it looks kind of perfect.

I just came home a few minutes, say in my reclining chair in the living room, looked around, and exhaled.

Ahhhhh . . .

So this is it.  This is all that's going to happen.  Because you know what?  I'd rather decorate my heart than my home.  I realize I've taken pride - the wrong kind of pride - in how I decorate for Christmas.  I want my home to be a tool, a vehicle God can use to reach others.  And I'm pretty sure my great big God can do that whether it's perfectly decorated or not.  Even with some dust on the table and dirt on the floor.  

So I'm just going to keep exhaling.  Keep reveling in the moment, remembering that all this is about a tiny baby who was born to become a sacrifice, and a King.  My King.

I'm going to keep my heart pointed to Christ, my King.  And not pointed to my house.