There’s a lot going on right now–wars and rumors of wars, not to mention the churning in my gut and the straining of my nerves. Our reality is shifting, sliding, changing. We are in the process of moving from our sweet island home. And while I am so blessed to spend this transitional time with my darling great aunt and uncle in South Carolina, I am still struggling to grapple with it all; I am straining to waltz rather than wrestle with all the newness.
The holiday sparkle is different this year, not gone, just different. All my ornaments are packed away in who-knows-which box. A bunch of them are lying on a Salvation Army store floor for 25 cents or so.
But even in the dull numbness of my heart, even in this white noise not yet pierced by Bing’s “White Christmas,” even in a world crumbling and shaking, afraid, pretending that it matters what a random celebrity did today–pretending it is all okay, Christmas matters.
It matters, perhaps, more than it ever did.
Decorating, baking, giving, these simple rituals when done for the King remind us that He came. This season of Advent causes us to remember yearning, that already-not-yet tension in which we live.
This year on Thanksgiving I watched the Macy’s parade for the first time in years. It did not disappoint. One of the Broadway acts was from “Fiddler on the Roof,” and we watched as they sang and danced to the music in a minor key.
The Jewish people are known for their music being in minor keys. It has been said that the minor key is the key of nature, such as the wind rustling the leaves or the trickling of springs, all the earth is singing to our Creator in a tone of soft groaning, of anticipation, of hopeful waiting.
So this Christmas and Advent season, as we wait with songs of joy, not for a baby, but a glorified King, let us remember that this celebration matters. Do not lose heart, my friends. Make some hot cocoa, turn on some tunes, and throw a party! Our Guest of Honor is coming back.
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