Christmas Presence

My church is doing a series where we are being challenged to slow down and savor the true meaning of Christmas. I think I am the only one whose response was to be more stressed out. Now I have twice as much to do— everything on my list and slow down and be less stressed about it.

So here I am in the whale again in the advent of a lesson learned with my checklist hand and left eye twitching. Nice touch with the Christmas lights entwined with whale baleen. Very festive. I wonder how Santa delivers presents here? Does he drop through the blowhole and shimmy down the uvula?

I have to admit this is a welcome escape from the chaos of Christmas. It’s just You, me, the whale (who rarely if ever speaks), and Silence so palpable it is a fourth character. 

You start rolling the home videos and, as usual, I am not sure where You are going with it. I am sitting in a parked car at Paris Baguette with my son. I remember my small group and I had been talking about how to stretch our kids who have special needs. It is difficult to find the sweet spot between pushing them too hard and not expecting enough from them. 

In light of this discussion, I decided to take my son on an errand with me. This may seem simple enough—Step 1: Go to Paris Baguette. Step 2: Buy milk bread. For my son with autism who at 5 is just learning to say words, it means expressing his wants, listening to what I want, and managing disappointment. For me it means side-stepping tantrums that could be triggered by any one of these things after driving through the parking lot of doom where dreams go to die during the busiest month of the year. After pulling into a parking space, I turn to look at my son.

“More driving,” he says while signing it.

“No,” I say with a thumbs down sign.

“Joy to the World,” he says, pointing to the stereo. I am unbelievably shocked but unwavering.

“Good job asking, but no. We are going inside.”

“Ni Ni Ni MMMMMMMop!!” (As far as my husband and I have gathered, roughly translated, this means “I am very upset. There is no way I am going along with this plan. Mount Vesuvius is a baking soda science experiment compared to the explosion you are about to witness.”)

“Caleb. We are going inside. Mommy will get bread. We will come back. Then, Joy to the World.”

To my shock, he relents, gives the “all done” sign, indicating he is ready to leave the car. He holds my hand through the parking lot. He allows me to grab bread and put it on the counter. Then, as an added bonus, pulls me to the restrooms and independently goes to the bathroom in a public place. He comes out, waits in line, and I buy him a Santa lollipop and wonder who this kid is and if my son has been replaced by an alien life form. We leave the store. He looks down at his lollipop, then up at me, and says “thank you!”

You freeze frame the moment. I remember it vividly. As a mom of a child who has weak relational muscles, Caleb saying “thank you” unprompted at an appropriate time was as if You peeled back the layer separating Heaven and Earth, took a medicine dropper filled with the stuff of heaven and squeezed a drop of it in all its purity onto the sidewalk next to me. 

The ripped wrappings of this Christmastime errand revealed beneath a gift I did not expect— a step toward deeper relationship with my son. I am still riding the exhilarating high of this moment. You helped me slow down and focus on my son and the errand was completed at the same time.

In my mind’s eye You paint a picture of Your hands holding a large metal colander. You gently shake it back and forth. Bows, tags, presents, shopping, cards, stamps, cookies, errands, chores—all the Martha expectations and to-do lists fall through. What is left is what You cherish—what Mary instinctively knew—relationships. Mary chose to sit at the feet of Jesus and stare into His beautiful, loving face. She knew the dishes could wait. She knew they had to wait. 

Maybe this sermon series does have a chance of sinking in.

Lord, I place all of my Christmas “to-dos” at Your feet to be sifted. Help the meaning trump the checkbox. Help me write the note on the back of the card, reconnect with a friend to watch Christmas movies together, find out how the people in my life receive love so gifts help them feel known. Show me the people in my life that are facing hardship and help me walk with them through painful circumstances without trying to wrap the situation in garland and string it with lights. If doing less is the only way to meaningful exchanges, help me do less. Thank You for melting my stress away the more I seek Your Presence. Help me to give out of Your overflow. Amen.