and blood pressure been raised

and her feet and ankles have swollen.

The work of Christmas doesn’t begin (or end) with labor, but with nourishment and making space. It doesn’t begin with heavenly choirs but in silent and tender moments of stomach caresses and gurgling, discomforting moments of morning sickness.

The work of God in the world is at times big and grand and accompanied by angelic armies and sometimes it is found in the quiet, faithful endurance of a young girl swallowing back heartburn and dreaming of the future for a child she has yet to meet.

We need both. We need Christmas and celebration. And we need the unnoticed, daily preparation that happens in small, and at times, uncomfortable ways.

The world we want doesn’t just appear. It takes work and waiting and stretching and sacrifice – just like the work of an expecting parent. It starts small, in the dark, and often goes unappreciated. But the work here is vital and formational.

How we carry ourselves in the time leading up to the big and grand matters. We cannot fast forward to the good part. There are no shortcuts to Christmas.

But we can be faithful along the way. We can walk, or waddle, like Mary – trusting, enduring, paying attention, making space for God to be present. Even when it’s painful or seems like the waiting may never end. Even when it leaves us wondering what in the world we have gotten ourselves into.

The work has already begun. God is on the move. And we can be part of it.

Like

Comment

Share