Cold Dampness and Christmas


On this final day of November, the darkness outside belies the clock’s 4:45 PM time. I’ve watched snow flurries and rain while I made oatmeal/craisin/white chocolate chip cookies to share with another couple coming tonight for spaghetti dinner. Dave managed to burn the trash and order some Christmas gifts via the internet, but the day appears pretty grim. I miss times of quiet with Little Stuff when we could just watch Veggie Tales together on the couch. Alas, I’m in Maryland and she’s in Georgia.

Into this dismal day the background sounds, thanks to Cindy Bauchspies and Michael Card Christmas CDs, propel my spirit right into Advent. A day such as this one takes me to the cold dampness that I associate with the difficulties of the first Christmas. Whatever the weather that first Christmas night, the Christ child entered a hostile environment as He nestled down in a feeding trough. The Creator of the universe entered His world to find anger, hatred, and ultimately, death. No bright lights and tinsel, no blow-up reindeer or holiday buying sprees. Yet, for the likes of you and me, He gave up the splendor of heaven to walk this earth, tempted in all ways as we, and to lay down His life as a ransom for those He would call to faith in Him. I wait in this Advent season, savoring the depth of such a love.

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