The world didn’t end on Friday; that’s old news now, so it seems Christmas will come after all, and most of us will live to see 2013.
A new year. Full of promise.
Except that while people were watching and waiting for the world to end (or not) on Friday, my husband and I were dealing with another blow to what we thought was the plan for our family.
I had been awaiting a second interview for a promising, exciting job, which was not a sure thing by any means but which gave us hope that maybe we could move and get out of this financial, spiritual, emotional rut we’re in. On Friday I got an e-mail and instead of anticipating a second interview, I found the door slammed shut with the words “we are not able to offer a position to you at this time.”
After the initial shock, Phil and I have rebounded and regrouped a little but we still find ourselves lost for direction.
And this is so not where I wanted to be. Especially at Christmas and on the cusp of a new year.
Today, on Christmas Eve, I am painfully aware of my condition.
And not unlike God-become-flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe, as the songs say.
How, on earth, could Almighty God become a helpless, dependent baby?
The answer resides in heaven.
And though I am all of the above, I have hope.
Tonight our church serves communion as part of its Christmas Eve service, a service our family has never attended because we’re usually home in Illinois by now. And I am so looking forward to it because of this:
“Jesus fills us with more and more of himself in the Eucharist to free us from being quite so full of ourselves in the rest of life.” — David DeSilva, Sacramental Life
Or as John the Baptist said of his relationship with Jesus: “He must increase, I must decrease.”
I don’t know what the new year holds for us, and maybe that’s a good thing. I spent most of this year clinging to expectations and recovering from disappointment when they went unmet. This year, I pray my expectations will consist of one word: Jesus.
“And he will be our peace.” – Micah 5:5