Advent Part 2: God in the Mess

Back in late October the kids and I took a trip to the zoo. One last trip for the season to enjoy the sparkling sunshine and golden leaves. We had a good time and ended by playing on the playground. I brought my camera, just in case. While watching the kids play, I saw another mom sit her two very young children on a bench with a golden tree above and colorful leaves all around. She snapped several pictures of her smiling, calm, attentive children and they went on to play.

I was inspired to try to follow her lead. Sure the kids were in crazy clothes, but I wanted to be in the moment. The moment could still be magical, right?

You can imagine me trying to prompt, cajole, encourage, demand...here are just a few of my attempts.





We never did get a good picture.

What does this have to do with Advent?

Well. Real life is messy. Even at Christmas. For some reason, I seem to try extra hard to smooth the wrinkles of real life. I want everyone to be happy. Thankful. Every activity to be joyful and filled with wonder. Everyone looking at the camera and smiling in coordinating outfits in my clean house with the laundry done, perfect decorations. The right gifts. Christmas cards mailed with short, meaningful personal notes to each recipient.

Reality crashes in. Everything isn't really ruined. It's just so...normal. My kids are my kids. My house is my house. Not the movie kids or the magazine house. The decorations are the same as last year. And yet, there is something special and set apart about this season.

It's the reality that God's Son entered our world. Our reality. Our mess. He became human and dependent. Fragile. He was born in a very common place. Not terribly clean. His parents were new at this whole thing. God came to us. He wanted to. He stayed. He let us mess up. He still loved us. He lived and laid down his life for messy people like me.

Emanuel. It means "God with us." Perhaps, this year, Christmas is not for trying to cover the mess or wish for perfection. Perhaps it is to wonder at a God who knows the depth of my mess better than anyone and still showed up. Still loved. Still holds out his hand to me and you.

Maybe my idea of a "perfect Christmas" will transform from cleaning up messes to looking around and pondering the idea that God is here with me right now.