Ever have a morning when you wake up in a funk and, frankly, you don’t care if you snap out of it or not? Your pitiful thoughts resonate with discord and strife, generally fueled by exhaustion. And while your broodings may never quite lead you to wish you had never been born (aka George Bailey on a bridge), you can’t picture things improving…ever…and on that day, you really don’t care if they do.
It is what it is. Give me another cup of coffee or send me back to bed…or both.
Welcome to my day.
I generally don’t feel like this–especially around Christmas. I love preparing for Christmas! I love contemplating how to bless my family through my gifts and cooking, or how to bless others by opening my heart and home on Christmas Day. I love the activity of baking with my daughter or shopping with my husband or son. The concept of celebrating through sharing sweetly nudges me into action like no other. I love that we get to set aside this season to honor Jesus by not just His birth, but His lifestyle. Yay!!
The days preceding Christmas this year, however, find themselves stacked with–not Christmas preparation–but home renovation. While we have our tree up, our decorations are still in boxes, we have no lights on our home, and my thoughts drift to mandatory organization of our kitchen rather than my usual joyful organization of Christmas delights. In addition, the renovation has taken its toll on my ME/CFS, and the exhaustion, which had seemed to be waning previous to reno, has reasserted itself in a bossy, hey-look-at-me kind of way. [Not to mention perimenopause, which sort of makes my life feel like crossing the street and getting hit by TWO monster trucks instead of just the one.]
All these varying components converged upon my thoughts and led me to start a conversation with my handsome husband lamenting how un-Christmas-like everything felt (not that I could physically do anything about it)–all while the dear man tried to frame-out and seal the inside of our windows so we can have a cozy Christmas. [Note: men’s priorities v. women’s priorities–totally different!] Then, our wonderful painter, Gino, showed up, and I exiled myself to our bedroom, where I found myself firmly ensconced in Psalm 105.
This beautiful ode commemorates the history of Israel from God’s covenant with Abraham until He gave the land of promise to ole Abe’s descendants over 400 years later. While the psalm ends with joy and singing, the history itself has penetrating ruptures of deep pain and agony.
Yes, God made a covenant of promise to Abraham and, yes, the psalm shares many accounts of God’s presence and provision, yet we can also find times when I’m certain His people must have felt that their season was very un-Covenant-like. Frankly, I like the commonplaceness of this verse: “He had sent a man ahead of them, Joseph, who was sold as a slave” (v. 17). During his season of fetters binding his feet with his neck in a “collar of iron,” Joseph doubtless wondered where the true meaning of Covenant had gone. Or how about this little ditty: “He turned [the Egyptians’] hearts to hate his people, to deal craftily with his servants” (v. 25). Can’t you hear them singing their lonely hearts out with “I’ll be home for Covenant…if only in my dreams”?
Dreams. The ideals we build up in our hearts and minds this time of the year that frequently let us down. The hopes and emotions that don’t always align with a full scope of reality, which cause our hearts to fill with pain or at least the feeling of disconnection.
As children of God, we each get to live our lives as a journey to God’s promise–which He will fulfill, make no doubt about that. Despite the full scope of God’s entire plan working itself out in our lives, we may find ourselves with a season of fetters or people’s hearts turned against us; we may find ourselves in a very un-Christmas-like season. Like Joseph, though, can we embrace what we do have rather than lamenting what we don’t have? Can we avoid jumping off emotional bridges and focus on the wondrous works of God in our lives?
My reality: my decorations do remain in boxes; my baking has yet to commence (or even formulate!); and, my invitations have yet to get issued, Thus, my house “feels” very un-Christmas-like. In the whole scope of my life, however, this season will be a very small blip. A hardly worth mentioning type of thing. For overall, I do see the wondrous works of God in my life. I see the touch of His hand overspilling His wonders across each nook and cranny of my existence. I see a great and loving God writing a history spelling out His presence and provision and only lightly speckled with minute ruptures of pain. He has, indeed, given me a very wondrous life.
“Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon His name; make known His deeds among the people! Sing to him, sing praises to him; tell of all His wondrous works! Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice! Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually! Remember the wondrous works he has done” (Psalm 105:1-5a).