Joyful and Triumphant

It is quite tempting to be a scrouge this year. With one sickness rolling into the next in our house, I have felt neither joyful nor triumphant a majority of the time. In the last month, I have only been out of the house to do some minor Christmas shopping (like maybe 3 hours), and to take my 2 month old to the Emergency Room.  Friends with kids can't stop by because you'll just keep passing each sickness around.  I've had lots of sleepless nights, comforting children, nursing the baby, helping the girls go potty... One day runs into the next until it occurred to me the other day that I hadn't even seen the church decorated for Christmas.  We only made ONE of the gazillion Christmas parties we were invited to, and that was with MUCH effort finding a babysitter to watch flu-ridden kids. I've missed the entire Advent Season with our church due to sickness! The only thing up in our house this year is the tree and it looks terrible.  The kids (in particular, Lydia) can't stop messing with it, so all of the ornaments are either broken, on the floor, or up high as to keep little fingers away from them.  I have had no desire to put anything else up and quite honestly I feel a little depressed.  And, of course, Charleston won't have snow any time soon, but I'm not even going there...

But as I was in the ER, holding Caleb who was screaming hot with a fever, I started thinking about the Father sending his Son to us.  Emmanuel.  God with us.  I started thinking about what it would be like to have thought up and created the universe, only to be limited to the body and mind of an infant.  Willingly.  I looked at my son, helpless, and couldn't imagine entrusting anyone else with him.  I was wondering what it must've been like for the Father to trust Mary and Joseph with Jesus, knowing everything probably wouldn't be handled perfectly, or the way he would've done it himself.  I was thinking about what it would be like to entrust my son to an 8 year old or something.  Who would do that?  Tough for Jesus. Tough for his Father.  Glorious for us.

As I sing about our Savior's birth this year, I am wearing sweats in my kitchen and I'm usually singing alone.  There hasn't been anyone to sing for except Jesus, and usually that's with my kids in the background telling me to stop singing. Nothing very holly or jolly about this Christmas. No cookies, maybe 2 presents, no decorations, no fun Christmas cards to send out. Nothing.  In fact, I told Russ today that this is probably the worst Christmas I've ever had.  But without those distractions, in some ways it has also been the best one. It has been stripped down to Jesus!  Jesus + nothing = everything. When I think about what Jesus sacrificed for MY sake, how can I be anything but joyful and triumphant? God is with me.

O Come, all ye faithful
Joyful and Triumphant
O Come ye, O Come ye to Bethlehem
Come and behold him
Born the King of angels
O Come let us adore Him
O Come let us adore Him
O Come let us adore Him
Christ the Lord