I’ve typed out post after post and word after word trying to convey all of my thoughts this Christmas season. But I can’t. Because this year I refuse to minimize Christmas to words or cliche phrases.
My heart ached this year just as it did last and just as it will until I reach my eternal home. I found myself watching those around me a little more. Who was in the midst of hurt and grief yet masking it with a “Merry Christmas”? I examined those at the grocery store and in the line at Target and caught myself wondering if their hearts were continually breaking.
This season is the most beautiful of all, but unfortunately it lends itself to be the most lonesome as well. I hope I will always see the true meaning of Christmas and not dilute the hope of our coming Savior to the pettiness of what our world has made this season.
It’s not about the family gathering, it’s not about the hustle and bustle, it’s not about the presents and lights and decor. It’s only about the hope that was offered that first Christmas. This Christmas season was so beautiful for our tiny family and I will always remember the vast array of emotions that this Christmas held.
This year, the most beautiful words I read about Christmas were from Max Lucado.
You have to read this.