Extol the Mighty Word Control
Then He showed up. Uninvited. Monday.
Misgivings about his visit tapped on my shoulders, but I forged ahead. I wasn't the one barfing in the toilet - Les and Bridget were. I had too much work to do to stop. Sure, occasionally I'd ask them if they needed anything, but I thought it would be best to leave them alone with Him so I wouldn't be bothered. He seemed to ignore me. I moved so fast last week, he didn't have time to catch up...or so I thought.
Thursday night we went around the homes in our neighborhood singing and hopefully bringing joy (not Him) to our neighbors. Back home we ate and chatted, and then Les and I hid while the kids still celebrated. It was beautiful, but I didn't get to bask in the glow of our successful caroling party on Friday morning unless you call staring into the porcelain bowl a sign of triumph.
In the Paur house we have a nasty habit of trying to see who outdid the others in purging. The formula is how many actual trips to the barf basin times the actual act of regurgitation. Twenty-four times. I beat the family record by six (Elizabeth's total was 18).
Friday - cookie baking day - down. Saturday - prep for Christmas dinner - down. Sunday - mass and deliver cookies - weak, and resting during most the day. My beautiful chocolate Yule Log and White Chocolate fruit tarts remained only on the recipe sheets. Christmas Day dinner and festivities moved over to my sister's beautiful home...Even if we all recovered, we were not sure my extended family would want us to attend. We might bring Him (more like He'd just invite Himself) to the festivities.
Rolling around in bed with fluctuating body temperatures and churning innards is not how I wanted to spend the week before Christmas, yet it became one of those spiritual retreats that you go into kicking and screaming but come out the other side with a new and hopeful perspective.
First of all, I started wondering how much eggnog Mary and Joseph consumed in Bethlehem. How many cookies did Mary bake? How many selfie Christmas cards did they send out with a cute letter attached? How many strings of lights did Joseph hang outside the stable? Did Mary serve fish or lamb? What were the first Christmas presents? Did Santa show up? Did they buy their gifts at the mall or order them online? Did they wrack up credit card debt? Did Mary use her Christmas china when the shepherds traipsed into their makeshift home?
Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. (Luke 1:38, NABRE).Relinquishing control. That's basically what Mary was doing. A humble act of obedience. We know the story. A brutal regime forced the young couple to travel away from their home to be counted for the census. She was about to have a child, but there were no epidurals in sight.
Though we don't hear Joseph's verbal response, he too submitted his will. He was unsure of this new bride of his, pregnant with someone else's child. He was unable to book a hotel online, and we're assuming their mode of travel was coach-class donkey. Would they have ATM machines that worked with his Shekel card?
Sickness, if you permit it, sharpens priorities, awakens deeper gratitude, and forces you to let your husband wrap the Christmas gifts. It no longer was important to me (well, the importance decreased considerably) that cookies were baked, the house was beautiful, and the family had tons of perfectly wrapped gifts. I tried to mentally bring myself to the stable of hardship and thank God for his remarkable gift of love to us. I prayed more and thought about the countless others who were suffering in the world - the numbers are daunting. Then I tried to give the gift of appreciation and non-judgement to my own family members (though I'm sure they'll tell you I wasn't perfect!).
On Christmas morning when we opened our gifts it was different. It was better. I read a meditation, and then we opened presents. This year everyone expressed true gratitude for their books, clothes, jewelry, etc. (well Bridget complained a bit, but that was because I ordered the wrong size); Les and I didn't go into our usual malaise about not liking each other's gifts; and when we finished, it didn't feel as if we gorged ourselves on pork lard. Instead we felt rejuvenated. You might say it was because we were all sick and finally getting better, but I say a miracle happened. God only permitted it because I said, "Yes."
"Yes, God, Les can help, even though it won't be done the way I want it."
"Yes, God, the girls can help, even though their perspective is different than mine."
"Yes, God I will spend more quiet time with you though the clock is ticking away."
Next year the rush "to do" Christmas will blast like the starter pistol at a hundred-meter dash. I hope and pray I will slowly walk onto the track more observant of Christmas priorities - love, forgiveness, mercy, charity, peace, joy, and hope - and be willing to share more of these than my Christmas cookies.
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