Covid Christmas

Last year I mourned Christmas passing me cheerfully by in Minnesota. I missed the snow and cold. I missed caroling where you weren't wearing flip flops. I missed the Christmas parade and our community Christmas supper. Christmas cookies, special time with family, the festive feeling in the cold air. Instead I had palm trees, a hot sun, and something that felt far from Christmas. 

This year I do not mourn my absence from Minnesota Christmas. Rather I mourn the absence of that Christmas, the long-held traditions that made it Christmas for me. It's bitter sweet. While it tugs to know that others are celebrating without me, the thought that those traditions aren't even taking place leaves me feeling empty. Thinking of lock downs and Covid leaves me feeling strangely stark and bare. Almost as if Christmas has been stripped away. 

We say we are celebrating the real meaning of Christmas, but are we as much as we think we are? When our cozy little safe places are stripped away, do we still carry that joy in our hearts? When everything we hold dear and normal dissolves in our hands, do we still have His peace in our hearts? 

Do I? The question is real. And begs an answer. 

And yet, I know if I truly have the peace and joy of Christ, no circumstances, no trial, no hard journey can take that peace. It's peace, not found in my lot in life, but in my eternal, unchanging, faithful, forever good Father. 

And despite what happens, I can rest in that. And not just rest in that, but overflow in joy.

Merry Christmas!