A Red Carpet to the Manger {Advent}

December 7, 2013

Friends … it is a rare moment when I am at a loss of words. I reflect on this Advent season and it echoes as a jumble of thoughts loose across my soul space – jagged and unformed.

There is so much to be said, and so much for the not-saying.

I am caught at a crossroads between joy and fear, between the whys and how-could yous, slipping away from grace and awash in worry.

I love Christmas, I do. I am usually in a daze of wonder for the whole of December. Star stricken by the Divine humanity. I love it like this friend loves it. It is a well from which to draw all year long.

I just don’t know how to tell you how I feel about this Christmas. About presents and things and loss and Kings. About war and the warriors a half a world away.

There is a veritable army writing on how to “do” Christmas. Santa or not? {Not.} Presents, or not? {Presents, but fewer-ish.} Advent calendar {here and here} or not? {Depends on the day and my sanity levels.} Currently, it looks like this. A heaping jumble of boxes on the gross green couch.

photo-3

Anyway … I will leave it to them. They are doing an excellent job. Seriously, my heart resonates on these pages. But that’s for another day.

We are reading the Jesus Storybook Bible and the Wee Man is tucked up under one arm to avoid slipping off the leather and the J Girl has her explosion of curls cascading over my other shoulder.

And this season of Advent, of blood and breath and birth, every night, we are reading Bible stories that tell The Story, that roll the red carpet right down to a splintered, stinking manger.

And there is a little more room in the conversation for giving when the conversation is about the ultimate Gift.

And for that infant King, that flesh-God, I want to do more, and be more, and give more and I need Him for every stinking second of it. 

And the transformation that happens …. the space between the miracles … when the stuff of earth and the Kingdom of heaven meet …  

It is undoing me in a word-stealing, heart-crumbling, life-altering way. 

And while I piece together this Christ-following at Christmas, I will settle down deep in the leather chair with chubby toddler arms around my neck and six year olds that have no business growing any bigger, and oh my Second Son whose smile lights even the darkest places in my day. We are on a journey to Bethlehem. 

Truthfully I don’t know if this makes a lick of sense here. But I thought you should know.

~M.

More about Molly Huggins

I am an unrepentant extrovert with an ongoing, passionate affair with coffee, ellipses, and the written word. I write because it’s how I’m made to worship. I am a story teller, because redemption has a story to tell. And always, I want to be a story collector. So have a virtual seat at my beat-up kitchen table. Read my story. Tell me yours. Stay awhile. And P.S. ... for more about me, click on my mug in the sidebar;)

5 Comments
    1. Honest reflections of an overwhelmed heart. Makes perfect sense – just as it should to all the Christ-followers who don’t need perfect words. Glad I read your reflection today, Molly.

    1. Yes!!! Love you friend, and your beautiful words!
      We just cracked a coconut this morning and somehow it makes me think of this – of all the craziness on the outside of Christmas – your brokeness brings you to the core of the thing – the good meat! The exterior has no nourishment – it’s in the core.
      Hugs and prayers for you and yours!!

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