In the Fullness of Time

Due to a summer reno gone woefully awry, we don't yet have a Christmas tree up. It's so late it hurts. 

Five rooms' worth of furniture and appliances are jammed into two rooms. We're living on top of each other and have been for months. There's nowhere for a tree to go.

I love Christmas trees. I love the warm glow of twinkle lights, the fragrance of fir, the special ornaments the kids have made. I love the way it sets a celebratory tone regardless of what's going on around it.

But right now we're more than a little low on celebratory tones. There's more plaster dust than Christmas sparkle. Presents are stashed in the attic. We've got a string of newly made ornaments dangling in front of the mirror, awaiting a branch where they can make their debut. 

We're so achingly ready to celebrate. 

But we have no room for a tree.

We've been hoping the reno would reach a usable pausing stage, so we could set up our future kitchen as a temporary living room, with plenty of space for the Christmas tree. 

But things keep going wrong and wrong and every day our plans get pushed back and back. Now we've got two days left til Christmas and if we're going to put up a tree on Christmas Eve it will take a miracle.

I know that Christmas isn't in the tree. I know it. It will be Christmas whether or not we have that particular decoration.

But the waiting, and hoping, and waiting, and hoping - 

It's exhausting. 

Logically I know that every day brings us closer to the space being ready. It must. It does. 

But somehow, every day of delays and setbacks makes me feel like the opposite is true. It makes me feel like we're further from finishing than we were when it started. It's a lie that feels really true.

It's my own little glimpse of the weary world, awaiting the Messiah. Awaiting deliverance. Awaiting salvation. Longing for the promised God-with-us. And every day before He comes makes it feel like he's further away.

But he's not.

Each day adds up, each day fills up, until the days are complete and God-with-us.

And now we're all waiting. Waiting for Covid to end. Waiting for restrictions to ease, for hugs and visits and borders to open. Waiting maybe for that heartbreak to stop aching, waiting for that unanswered prayer to finally be answered, waiting for surgery and healing, waiting for your baby to come home. Waiting for peace, waiting for love, waiting for relief and comfort and rest. 

In the fullness of time, God sent forth his Son.

It will take a miracle for Christmas at our house this year.

But then, it's always taken a miracle for Christmas.

xo.