Shopping. Cooking. Cleaning. Decorating. Visiting Santa. Driving to see lights. Reading stories. Getting out Christmas music. Baking. Wrapping.
Every year I tell myself that next year I won’t stress as much. Next year I will get enough sleep and not try to do it all. It never works. I don’t think I’m trying to make everything perfect… but I suppose I am.
And then I read a scripture reflection that hit me right between the eyes:
Jesus himself came into less than perfect circumstances: An unexpected pregnancy situation, born while his family was far from home, and no decent place to stay. In all this was the perfectly wonderful place for Christ to be born. This is the savior who can receive us as we are. Perfectly imperfect and welcome at the table.
You’d think I would have learned this by now. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just needs to be filled with love.