Come, Lord Jesus

I am not sure what it is like at your house on the morning of the Church Christmas program. But here, it is a flurry of pantyhose, curling irons, mismatched shoes and bow tying. It feels like I run a marathon before we leave the house. Every time I leave with my hair pulled back into a pony or clip because there is just. not. enough. time. This past Sunday was pretty much the normal chaos. We made it, nonetheless. I was watching my children sing the songs and say their lines and then it hit me. What part are they going to remember, the crazy frenzied hour before we arrived here or the 15 minute program? I sure hope it's the latter.
I am such a bah humbug when it comes to this season. I am way too distracted to enjoy the real meaning. We caught up on the Jesse tree devotions last night. We were a week behind. Pathetic. The kids were losing interest by the third one so I skimmed. I skimmed the Bible verses that I want my children to hear and learn and appreciate. I tried to glean all the important parts for them. I pray that they soaked up one or two words.
Back to church, so I am watching people go through the communion line and I saw a single mom mouth the words, "Hi, I love you" to her child. The child who lives between her ex-husbands home and hers. The child who juggles time among parents, siblings, grandparents and extended family. The child who may not experience the chaos of hose and curling irons, may not have family devotions at the sticky table after supper, the child who sees her mom every other Sunday as she goes through the communion line at church. I suddenly appreciated my unorganized chaos. I pulled my baby closer to me in the pew. I tried to ignore the tug at my heart as the tears rolled down my face. "Are you okay mom?" my eldest asks. Yes, I am. I am okay. I am blessed. I have four beautiful healthy children and a husband. It doesn't matter if our hose have holes and my son is wearing a clip on tie. We are together. No matter what.

Merry Christmas.