Love Came Down at Christmas

Patrick and I fell in love at Christmas.

We'd been chatting on MSN for a few weeks when he invited me to his parents' place for Christmas. I said yes, and booked a train ticket to Toronto, where he was going to school, and then we bought a pair of tickets to take us both up to Northern Ontario.

I was so excited to see him, to spend time with him in person, but also so nervous. We'd only met in person once, so briefly, for less than five minutes. What if he misremembered what I was like? What if he was disappointed in me, in person? What if I was too ugly, or too tall, too frizzy, too freckly? What if he saw me arrive at the train station and decided to turn and walk away?

When I disembarked at Union Station, I couldn't find him. I found my bag, and then stood on the platform, waiting. As each minute ticked by, I grew more certain that he'd changed his mind, and didn't want this stranger infringing on his Christmas after all.  He wasn't coming. He must have seen me and decided to slip away.  I hadn't slept much on the way up, and nerves had prevented me from eating. The room began to spin.

Suddenly there he was, striding through the crowd, cheeks bright and eyes apologetic.  He walked straight up to me and put his arms around me and held me close.

The whole world stood still.

There was nothing else but the relief and joy of his embrace; no drafty room, no thrum of trains beneath my feet, no strangers spinning in a panicky whirl. Just Patrick.

He had come for me after all.
He loved me.

I knew it before our first kiss, before we'd ever held hands, before we ate our first meal together.

Because he could have been anywhere else, but he was right here, hugging me and not letting go.

And I know Jesus loves me, because

He came for us.
He did not leave us alone in the dizzying, spinning universe.

He came.
Because he loves us.
He has loved us from the beginning.
He came for his own, and he will not let go.

Xo.