receiving hearts

Last night we attended a beautiful, music-enhanced candlelight service, at which our pastor spoke about the meaning of Christmas.   Wrestling with Beth in the foyer, I didn't catch very much.  I can't wait to sit through an entire sermon, holding my husband's hand!  Can you mommies relate?

On the way home my husband filled me in on the sermonette.  An inspirational story was included to illustrate the point that Christmas is about giving--not about receiving.

Right there, I burst into tears.

You see, I too, thought Christmas was primarily about giving.  And the last two Christmases, we've done more receiving than giving.  Far more.  I struggle so much with this!

Earlier this month, I decided to do a large-scale cookie giving project.  It  failed.  The children, too young for such an ambitious, nearly-daily pursuit, would have felt neglected if I'd gone through with it.  Just getting a hot meal on the table is hard enough around here, without adding constant baking to the mix.

I decided to come up with other ways to give, but I only managed to have a 10-year-old cousin over for cookie baking, and an 8-year-old homeschooling friend and her father over for dinner.

When Christmas Eve arrived, I faced my failure--I hadn't given as I'd desired.  I see now, in retrospect, that I was trying to "make up" for all the receiving we had done.

All week I tried to get three different kinds of cookies baked for our Pastor and his family, to be given on Christmas Eve.  Sick kids, runny noses, laundry, schooling, and all the rest got in the way.  No cookies.

So two hours before church, I thought maybe pumpkin muffins for their breakfast might be nice, and maybe faster.  I had to ignore the children and get right to it.

The girls were fussy and restless and still sick--not a fun scenario.

Forty-five minutes before church, I tasted one of the muffins, to make sure they were giving-worthy.  Not, people.  Not worthy at all.  Too dry, and not sweet enough.  Lousy recipe.

Frustrated but resigned, I gave up and got the troops ready for church.  We went empty-handed.  I'll work on his muffins for New Years.

As I paced the foyer, I decided to try one more way to give, this Christmas season.  A woman from our church had open-heart surgery in late fall, and still, she felt weak.  She used to watch Mary in the church nursery while I helped in AWANA, and I really wanted to do something for her.  When church let out, I tracked her down and asked if I could clean her house.  Now, I realize this seems ridiculous, since I don't even have time to clean my own house.  But whatever..I felt desperate.

Her daughter, residing only eight minutes away from her, had it all covered.  She didn't need my help.

Now, changing scenes here.  We're back to the drive home in the car, after church.  As I said, my husband filled me in on the sacrificial-giving story the pastor relayed, and I burst into tears.

Me:  "Where does that leave people like us, who can't give? What meaning does Christmas have for us?  All we do is receive."

Husband:  "You give all the time, Honey.  You give of yourself to your family.  You are doing fine to just focus on that.  Besides, Pastor didn't mention this tonight, but Christmas is also about receiving.  Jesus came so that we could receive him and have eternal life.  Without our willingness to receive, we are nothing."

I absorbed that, and my heart rested some.  Then tonight, the full weight of my husband's teaching penetrated my heart.

I can't complete this story without telling you how we've been blessed.   Perhaps it will encourage you in your own situation, in some way.

Three relatives gave us money for Christmas; all of it went to delinquent bills.  I dread telling them that, as they intended it to be for the children.  While I feel very bad about this situation, the children are spoiled, in my opinion--they are not to be pitied, believe me.  They have more than enough, and we have no room for more toys.  The church gave them two gifts each and a stocking, and a cousin, who loves Christmas and buys for everyone, gave them gifts.  And at the last minute on Christmas Eve, a gift card arrived, allowing my husband to pick out a few things to add to their Christmas-morning joy.  He had tears in his eyes as he prepared to brave Christmas Eve crowds.  Always related to fatherhood, tears appear in his eyes about three or four times a year.  Earlier in the week, he mentioned his sorrow about not being able to pick out something of his own choosing, for each of his children.

The rest of that gift card means we'll have plenty of holiday food--which is another blessing for my dear husband.  Holidays are about food for my Honey, lean though he is--courtesy of high metabolism.

Busy but blessed.  That describes our day.  We were alone--just our little ones and us.  It was frenzied, with the holiday cooking and no relatives around to play with the kids, but we managed to enjoy each other, still.  The boys, brushing their teeth tonight, said they were sad Christmas was over.  They told me they had a wonderful day, and they hugged me.  I felt so blessed by their comments.  We're so well cared for!

Each time someone gave to us this Christmas, I knew God had something to do with it.  The timing of each generous act tells a story in itself.  God will never leave us or forsake us.  Always, he will provide.  He knows the hearts and hopes of little children (and big ones), and he doesn't disappoint.  Potential existed for my children to experience disappointment, but God didn't allow it.

Let us all open our hearts, and receive his gifts, unashamedly.  For my sweet husband is right, Christmas is also about receiving.

This has been my best Christmas.  My heart-knowledge of God grew exponentially, as I opened myself to receive--not with shame, but with thanksgiving.

Merry Christmas, Dear Friends!