Over the past few days, I have been reminded of conversations over the years, that there is very little actual truth in the details of Christmas narative and the way we celebrate it. -Dec. 25 more like some time in Sept....and so on.
On Monday my son asked if I needed help putting up the Christmas tree. To start with it is about a week earlier than it usually goes up. "I wasn't thinking about doing that today." "OK :( Well I changed my mind and together we hauled the tree up from the work room and the wooden box it sits on. We had a grand time, my 17 year old, talking up a storm.
The next day after school, "Mom are we decorating the tree sometime." Well it wasn't on my schedule. So he helped me put the lights on it - a job over the years that we have always done together. Once again excitedly chatting up a storm. If I didn't see the almost 6ft young man in front of me, I would have guessed he was five. He was totally affected by the nip in the air, the snowflakes gently falling, and making the house festive. For me it was two afternoons of grace -time with my son, seeing delight as the old decorations were pulled from their paper, joking about me moving decorations after they are already on the tree (I only rerouted two this year).
This in itself is a reason why we celebrate a story that didn't happen exactly the way it says that it did.
Then last night at the supper table my 19 year old talked about friends who get caught up in her fascination with science and tell her she is wrong, those who read the Bible in a black and white manner. We talked about learning to be a discerning reader, embracing metaphor, finding truth in the pieces presented, and loving hope, God, in a well told beloved story.
They appreciate celebrating the story in all its parts, feeding on the hope, love, and grace found therein. ....and on top of that reminding "mom" that being giddy is a gracefilled attitude.
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