The rush toward the finish line has practically swept me off my feet this year and there has been more than enough momentum for me to just drift in the right direction in the slip stream. We read our last chapters and wrote final tests and then spent two hours tearing up all the papers and workbooks that we don’t need anymore now that the school work is done for this year. I am not doing any clever “swimming” as it were, and my ideas and inventions for how to make the house festive have been at an all time low. I bought some golden baubles and two strings of fairy lights and I’m hoping that will do the trick. A chap on the side of the road is making and selling beautiful simple wooden/stick Christmas trees and I was all set to load my tree into the car when I asked the price. I checked several times to make sure I had heard right, and after telling him his trees were absolutely lovely and asking him how could he price them so when the wood was free, I drove off treeless. The fir tree at home in a pot is so unwell looking and we need to hang the baubles on something, I’m just not sure what. Once, I brought a luscious, triangular pyramid of a palm frond into the house to decorate and my children have pleaded with me ever since to never do that again. It has been unseasonably hot but I keep remembering how I struggled with the cold this year and so I haven’t complained. It doesn’t mean I haven’t huffed and puffed this growing body about the place, and kicked everything on the floor that needs picking up towards other people in the family so that they can have the honours
We might not have a tree yet but we found a tumble weed on the side of the road and brought it home to hang from the ceiling like a Zimbabwean mistletoe. It’s that simple around here this year. And somehow, the less I try to make things as I think they should be the more I am surprised by the loveliness that is all around already, without any of my trying. We had a welcome downpour of rain this afternoon and the only bad thing about that was that the solar power didn’t have enough sunlight to give us the battery power we need to get through the night. That one bad thing is actually the good thing we are discovering, and no lights on allows for all kinds of unexpected illuminations. Nothing else to see in our dim house, I lay in the bath watching the glow and shadows cast by a silver candle burning in its brass holder; window wide open letting in sweet breezes and a bright beam of moody twilight sky. Baby frolicked in my belly reminding me I wasn’t alone and the puffs of fresh air felt like kisses on my cheeks making me certain it wasn’t even just Baby and me in the room. How often do I miss these moments? These times where the divide between the here and now and the forever after is so thin. Like delicate spider webs of the physical realm filled with droplets of glory and holiness and the divine. I saw, in those moments, what always is and what already is before it actually is. Like the baby in the womb is truly here just not visible and fully mature, heaven is on earth in an unborn sort of way – not fully realised yet but so very much here for us to experience and enjoy, if we would like to.
That very first build up to Christmas, all of creation would have been waiting for the Saviour king. If they had listened carefully they might have heard, “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9 v 6) whispered on the wind, their cheeks kissed with the very breath of the one still to be delivered. Even before His birth, He was in existence and the promise of Him was tangible.
I went to a year end lunch at a special little school that we are part of. Tears flowed like they never have done at such an occasion, and I’ll tell you why I think they did. People shared their hearts, spoke honouring and affirming words and said thank you. Everyone was given a chance to say a speech and although many didn’t (after all, it’s intimidating to speak in front of others) one little guy, the youngest of the lot, wanted to say something about one of the older girls who is leaving school now. He simply said, “Do you remember that ball game we played?” and when she said she knew the exact one, he said, “That was a lot of fun.” His speech lasted maybe 8 seconds but his words have lived on in my memory for 4 hours and I don’t know that I will ever forget them. Polished performances and cleverly strung together words aren’t necessary to get to the heart of any matter. That little boy exposed a camaraderie within that school that overlooks age and gender and anything that might separate people in our world. That wasn’t the only speech the little guy made and he was willing to say words that none of the adults might have said as they strived to get things right. He spoke of simple things and he spoke from the heart and when he spoke I leaned in to listen. “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven.” – Matthew 18 v 3
There is something about coming to the point of realising our limitations and embracing our humanity. We are very much in need of rest and help no matter how invincible we might feel at times. There are times when life is complicated and the pace is fast and things don’t work as we hope they might. Sometimes, in stark contrast to the adults and all their set ways, a child shows the way. These scenarios are like unexpected detours off the beaten track. Weakness, lack of control and childishness are like keys to unlock a whole new world of wonder, tenderness, beauty and meaning. When things don’t go as planned, the stage is set for a better plan where all that is uncontrived and delightful flourishes. Barriers come down so that all the tenderness of God can swoop in. We might be trying to reach a goal, but if we slow down to the pace the world is spinning, we may find that there are surprises waiting for us along the way. We are sure to catch glimpses of the heaven and earth to come and constant reminders that the One who came as a baby two thousand years ago, will come again, riding on His white horse to collect His people, His bride.
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