Christmas Perfection

I love the aging process.  There is a wisdom that comes with living years on the planet.  Granted, if one lives in a way that keeps eyes and minds closed, perhaps the wisdom that could have invaded their soul is not received but ... alas! ... that's another story for another time.  My wisdom comes by way of an unlikely (or likely) character - fear.

At Christmas I find myself mostly - afraid!  I'm afraid that the gift I thought was "perfect" will disappoint.  I'm afraid that moments I set out to create will flop.  I'm afraid that the things I thought I had to get accomplished beforehand - in order to relax and chill without guilt - may rear their ugly heads and demand my attention during the holiday.  I'm afraid that what I'm doing in the moment is second-best to what I just heard someone else say they are doing.  I'm afraid the picture in my mind of what I think this time of year should look like isn't going to match what really happens.

I've got a dear friend who can't look at Facebook right now because the past is too hurtful to revisit.  I've got another friend who sits in a hospital room with a son who's fever won't break.  Another dear one has lost a job contract and another had emergency surgery.  One parent is in a rehab center recovering from a stroke.  A sister is overworked and exhausted.  Despite these being less than perfect circumstances, we all let fear discolor the moment and deceive us into thinking that we are going to miss something "perfect" because of our circumstances.  Then, we wallow in a sense of deficit thinking the present is so much less than what could have been or should have been.  Fear gets another victory.  Another victim has been taken down through the stronghold of fear.

This year, Libby wanted to make Taffy during the holidays.  I've never made Taffy.  Eaten Taffy I have done.  Made it, with my own two hands, never.  I decided that I would create a lovely Christmas memory and we'd have a family Taffy pulling night.  We'd wait until Addison was home to join us.  It would be a "perfect" night.  The stage was set.

Libby and I followed the directions, the first time, and the mixture was too runny.  Failed attempt.  We pushed through the disappointment and tried again.  To no avail ... with a mixture hard enough to injure a small animal.  The problem was cast to the lack of proper tools.  The mixture required a specific boiling temperature.  And, to ensure the proper temperature had been achieved, one must have a candy thermometer.  I have a meat thermometer.  We "guessed" at what would be 270 ... and our guess what sorely mistaken.

We laughed.  We threw our Taffy, resembling shards of glass, away.  Boo.  No Taffy memory to lodge into the history books of "perfect Christmas memories".

That's when it hit me:  NO ONE HAS A BOOK OF PERFECT CHRISTMAS MEMORIES!  

From the very beginning, virgin Mary got some news that she would be a pregnant bride.  Obviously upsetting, the circumstances were less than "perfect".  Yet ... for whom?  Imperfect for the receiver but perfect from the Giver?

I'm letting go.  I'm trusting the God of the Universe to be the same "perfect" God that He was to virgin Mary to be the same "perfect" God for me.  He set events into motion that were "perfect".  He made the circumstances "perfect" by His presence.  When I choose to invite His presence into every detail of my holiday, every moment becomes put into perspective by a loving God who desires all things for my good, to prosper me - not harm me, to give me hope.  When I set aside my fear of what could, should, might be ... "perfect" peace rushes in.  Whew!

Not pulling Taffy,
Christina