tis the season...

There is a thin blanket of snow on the ground...
the tree is trimmed,
and lights peek softly from its branches
as presents hide beneath it's boughs.
The aroma of hot cider seeps from the pores of the kitchen,
while remnants of laughter and carols echo in the woodwork.
Lumpy stockings dangle
beside a fire that lulls sleepily into it's embers.
The house is filled with glorious silence...
silence...
in anticipation
of a clock striking the new day.

The moments leading up to Christmas are my favourite.
Unspoiled.
Hopeful.
Redeemable.
Expectant.

Christmas itself always seems to unwrap too quickly.
24 hours cannot hold all the expectations of the season.
Some will get the Hallmark Christmas they desire
of happy meals, perfect presents, peace and goodwill.
Others will scrape through the season,
with or without loved ones,
holding on for dear life,
wishing it all to be over.


As I write,
I hear the clock carving seconds away...
and I am grateful.
The arguments have subsided.
The fires have been doused.
Disappointment has been faced,
and the constant chaos of thought has grown quiet
as the beast of reality has turned in for the night.

If sanity could be found
it is in these sacred moments
where I find my eyes turning to a manger...
not the polished and endearing tale
that embraces the heart with warm fuzzies.
No...
it longs for the story of the socially unacceptable,
the inconvenienced,
the awkward,
the rejected...
and I feel the reality of their message
filling me with sobering clarity:
This is why the manger exists.
Because there was a need.
Because there were broken people.
Because humanity was dying for a reason to live.
This is why we celebrate.
Because shattered lives are made whole.
The hopeless are given hope.
The rejected find relationship.

Christmas isn't tradition...
it is the transformation
of a holy God into fragmented humanity,
and fractured humanity into eternal hallowedness.
It should continue to fill your hearts with awe and wonder
as we look upon the gift of heaven
that brings eternal ending to fractured living.
May the angel's song no longer be silent in our night.
May our deafened hearts hear their message
still echoing into the darkest shadow of thoughts
the arrival of Hope.
The birth of Life.
The dawn of a new day.

Merry Christmas...

once...

This year I get to be home for Christmas. My first couple days have been jam-packed with friends and family, as in usual Anna-Marie fashion I am trying to fill every minute to it's maximum potential! Amidst cutting down trees, fixing strands of lights, and drinking copious amounts of coffee, I had the opportunity of attending The Living Nativity my church was performing in the center of our city.


And with the cold biting at my fingertips, I listened to the story.
A story that has been told for the past 2000 years...
a story that is timeless.
Simple.
Life-changing.
And I was reminded to adjust my focus
back on the one truth
that finds itself embedded in this busy season.
To abide in the Prince of Peace
that calms the rush and settles the chaos.
A prodding to walk humbly and in complete awe
of the wonder of heaven's gift.
And in dusting off the guitar and sifting through forgotten poetry,
I found this...

Once upon a nite
Heaven sent it's light
In the manger hay
The Emmanuel lay

While the world lay fastly sleeping
A Father's promise, faithful keeping

Child humbly come
The garden's curse undone
Born to peasants, kings
See the gifts they bring

Come to the stable and see
The offering of eternityt
He who knows your very name
Will stretch across your place of shame

Lost and wandering soul
Come before His throne:
A manger made of wood
A cross, a crown of blood

Prince of Peace and Son of earth
May our hearts proclaim your birth

Breath of God, so still
Wounded hearts to fill
Your promises unfold
In mangers of our soul