The Christmas that wasn't?

I find myself staring at the advent wreath that sits on our kitchen table.  Two of the candles were never lit.  I think about the Christmas letter that was never written, much less sent, and the Christmas presents that were opened in January (or, in some cases, were never bought or wrapped or delivered). 

It certainly wasn't the Christmas I'd planned.  MY plans included having my parents at our house for Christmas, something that hasn't happened for a long time.  I thought Marsh would cook up a storm (which he usually does... Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, apple pie...).  We'd sit by the tree, open presents, laugh, enjoy the day.

Instead, Christmas Eve and Day was cobbled together between hospital visits (ICU), visits to the hospital cafeteria, and a quick trip to Old Country Buffet (one of the few restaurants open on Christmas Day).  No presents...those would have to wait.

My dad (who we thought would be in the hospital 5-7 days for surgery, getting out at "the latest" on Christmas Eve), had just had a second surgery, his blood pressure alternating between plummeting and spiking.  We wondered if he'd make it.

The good news?  After two surgeries, seventeen days in the hospital, and a difficult trip home to Florida (I went with him and my mom), he's on the mend.  

And I'm home.  To Christmas decorations that seem incongruous with the past month we've been through.

But then I pause to consider if that's really true.  Because Christmas - the real Christmas, the baby-lying-in-a-barn born to a girl who got pregnant before she got married - that real Christmas was pretty chaotic.  It definitely wasn't a twinkling lights and glittery ornaments kind of event.

And in that real, chaotic first Christmas, God came in the middle of the mess.

Just as he came and met us in the hospital.  How?  

-Through the prayers and support of family & friends.  Just when we'd find ourselves exhausted, discouraged, someone would call, text, send a message on facebook, that helped us know we were not alone.  

-Through God caring for "the details" that we didn't even think to pray for.  Flu and sickness were running rampant.  The surgeons were sick.  The floor dad was on had people being admitted with the flu.  I ran to the store to get some supplies, and realized that I was the only healthy person in line.  Mom and I stayed healthy the entire time...we still are.  Since I'm someone who seems to get sick anytime there's the possibility, I see that as the hand of God.  

-Through the care of others.  Nurses, doctors, PCAs, hotel employees, who served us.  They may not know this, they may have no idea of who Jesus even is, but in their service I was reminded of Jesus washing the feet of His followers. 

-In our conversations that touched life and death.  Conversations, particularly with my dad, that got to the heart of what's important.  Conversations where I felt as if Jesus had pulled up a chair to sit with us.

In many ways this feels like "the Christmas that wasn't."  I'm still having a tough time wrapping my head around the fact that we're in a new year.  Beginning to take the Christmas decorations down feels odd, like I'd mistakenly put them up in July and am now sheepishly putting them away.  

And yet...perhaps this past Christmas was one of the most truly Christmasy Christmases I've ever had.  Because in it, I - we - experienced "God with us" as "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Thank you, Jesus, that you chose to step into the chaos of life and death 2000 years ago.  Thank you that you still do.