I knew Christmas would come again. I knew it. It was just the idea of all of that time between Decembers. So far away, one to the next. So much stuff, so much life, to get through in the meanwhile, before the magic could happen again. As a child, always my day after Christmas thoughts.
My mom kept Christmas packed up in several sturdy brown moving boxes. On basement shelves in places where we had a basement, on shelves in the garage where we didn’t. I remember many times as a little kid, looking at the boxes. Longing for Christmas. Feeling sad, but also feeling excited. Because the boxes were like a promise. I couldn’t see inside them, but I was certain, without even needing to look, that there were wonderful things within. Wonderful things that were coming, just not yet.
Then somewhere, in between years, Christmas lost that magic. Life left me lost as well, longing, for so much more.
I’ve been in a season of uncertainty for almost two years. And I think about those boxes from time to time. How Christmas was inside, even though I couldn’t see it. Two years, this place of my own between Decembers. Stuff, and life. Dark days. Lots of dark days, but in the midst of the darkness, I remind myself of this promise. That God has a beautiful purpose for me. A perfect plan for my life. I know this time of waiting is necessary as He prepares me for what is to come. I know that some days it requires of me, to the point of exhaustion, incredible faith and trust, and oh there are days when I am tested almost to beyond what I can bear.
Those boxes and longing. And coming light. The true promise of what Christmas is. The greatest gift. The birth of Jesus Christ, and I am filled with excitement, anticipation. Yes, those boxes. Of mine. To remind me-a new season.
My Christmas is coming.