This December I am waiting for a miracle.
I don’t know what it will be, how it will happen, if it is big or small or medium, but I am writing it down, willing faith to rise up. There will be a miracle. There will be a miracle.
I want to spend this month seeing, watching, waiting, not wandering from checkout basket to checkout basket, not weaving through another sparkly store. I want the only glittering thing to be the shine in my eyes: gratitude, warmth, enough. I have enough. My home is enough. My family is enough. Jesus is enough.
I want to savour this December, to laugh out loud, to anticipate with our son, to have fun parties. I want our home will smell of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and star anise. We will enjoy the simple things, we will bake cookies, go on night walks, and drink glögg all to the soundtrack of merriment and bells.
I am going to choose my relationships in these days because my husband and my children want me more than a great experience, a fine meal and Christmas activities. I am letting go of the perfect Christmas moment with its lights, shine and the magical experience for presence – His presence with me, my presence with my family, our presence in our community. I will give the gift of presence this Christmas.
As darkness covers my corner of the world, I will light candles in our windows, on our mantle, on the table. I will remember the one who brought light out of darkness, and I will open myself for the Light of the world to pierce my soul again. To let His story move me, to allow Him to change me, to let the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us become flesh to me again, so that I might be strengthened to move, to take up the work He has for me to do now.
I will shut the voices of the world out in the next 29 days, silencing all except my communication with friends, outlets for writing and anything I need for the daily living in a foreign country. I will read books, and read words that only strengthen and edify. I will wait, and I will watch.
There will be oil in my lamp. There will be a flame in the candle by the door. I’m here. I am waiting for you to come.
This December, he will lift my chin and say these words, Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what had been spoken to her.