I had plans to start December in a special way for my kids. Their chocolate advent calendars were tucked away in the pantry, waiting for their little fingers to pull back the colorful tabs and reveal the Christmas-shaped chocolates. But the calendars were never opened December 1st. They were left behind in the rush of the school morning.
I had already imagined what our night would be like. All six of us huddled together with a special dessert while my husband read from our new Christmas book. But instead, I cried at the dinner table because I couldn't handle one more complaint. The kids went to bed early. No dessert, no new book.
My expectations have the power to destroy something good. I was reminded that this season is going to be messy…because I'm a mess. I'm a mess of a mother who is impatient, tired from all the nights of disturbed sleep. I can barely keep up on laundry and cooking…and definitely not Christmas cookies!
I am comforted by the sweetest thought. The most perfect thought. Christ came for the imperfect. The broken, tired mother who longs for something more. The strongest of expectations can't take away the breathtaking miracle of this season. And there is nothing I can do to make Christmas more special—It's already been done. There are no lights or decorations that can cover up the mess of my failures, Christ is the only cover. He came to cover!
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