I just want to put out a disclaimer here. I do not have life figured out.
Which probably goes without saying, but still.
I’ve spent the last few weeks like a stressed out, tightly wound nutcase, hustling like mad to balance seminary and birthday parties and Christmas and t-shirt making hobbies and family stuff and baseball tournaments and writing. (Except actually I haven’t written a single thing, but let’s pretend.)
This week was supposed to be the week that my schedule was once again mastered, because my basic plan was to Nail It On Everything.
Yet within one hour of Monday morning’s waking, our dog had escaped because that’s what she does, and Luke had a breakdown and proclaimed that he could not possibly go to school while his dog was missing.
And I proclaimed that I could not possibly Nail It On Everything if he didn’t go to school.
So I started singing O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, because that is the Christmas version of crying out, “Jesus, help me.”
Tis the season, people.
Before I could even finish my coffee, I threw on a baseball cap and yoga pants and launched an animal search and rescue mission. (Incidentally, I prayed that no one who read that blog post about yoga pants would see me because apparently yoga pants are sinful and such).
Then I spent the next 15 minutes driving down six different streets with my windows rolled down, calling out the name Ruby every 7-10 seconds, and I didn’t look ridiculous at all.
I eventually found her, and the bonus was that I proved my theory that God still hears the pleas of those who wear yoga pants. The extra bonus is that Luke quit crying and agreed that it was a good idea to attend school today.
Which was fantastic because he was going to go regardless.
And alas, thanks to another curve ball in my carefully penned agenda, I sit here at Starbucks (still in the yoga pants, mind you) while the brakes in my car get fixed. (Which is a completely different story in which Larry claims I brake too hard, and in which I’m not clear on what the alternative breaking methods actually are.) But anyhow.
To top it all off I have a big Greek final on Wednesday, and a Hermeneutics paper due tomorrow, and I’m writing instead since I might as well choose to focus on something non-urgent because I clearly need to throw an additional kink into the frayed knots which are my nerves.
Please refer to that disclaimer about how I Do Not Have Life Figured Out. (Probably the best advice I can give you is to filter all these words through that line.)
Speaking of messed up plans, the Dalke family is not winning any kind of Advent awareness awards. Mostly because we’re already 6 days behind since it’s December 7th and we just started last night.
Also, the Christmas tree is up, but there are no ornaments on them. The outside decor is haphazardly semi-complete, and the mixed in remnants of birthday decorations don’t exactly pull it all together.
The one thing we have going for us is that Luke is totally over the Elf on the Shelf, so we are spared the early morning Pinterest searches for Elf shenanigans that we can copy cat. (This, my friends, goes in the win column, and should be noted as evidence that there is always something to be thankful for.)
Despite the fact that this post seems pointless, here’s my point:
The first Advent of Jesus came at an ordinary time, and interrupted the ordinary lives of ordinary people.
And when Jesus showed up, his family didn’t schedule evening family devotionals so that they could spend time with him. They just lived their ordinary days with him.
Days which were filled with swaddling clothes to be washed, domestic responsibilities to be managed, and people to be loved.
So if you feel like Advent is a bust for you, don’t sweat it. Take a deep breath and enjoy Jesus’s with-ness in this day, whatever you’re doing, wherever you are.
Even if you’re wearing yoga pants in a Starbucks, where you’re drinking from plain red cup made by so-called Christmas haters.
Life is good simply because Jesus is with us. Not because we have life all figured out.
Talk to you soon…
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