Tip of My Iceberg

‘Tis the season of Christmas programs and special events.

While our oldest and her family had been invited to attend a local concert, we were tasked–enjoyably so–with watching the two youngest. Neither of whom would have enjoyed the enforced quiet and need for stillness.

Ryken is almost three months old. The strong, silent type. He’s high maintenance, but his needs are expected. Food. Clean diaper. Cuddling. When he’s fussy, there’s a good reason. I appreciate that type of straight-forward behavior.

Isley, at four, is not just a different story but a different genre. She’s non-stop motion, unless she’s sleeping. She’s constantly changing her mind, because she can. She asks questions and makes comments whether or not silence has been requested.

When they were dropped off at our house, Isley came in, talking. As if a conversation with me had already been going on and she was releasing the “pause” button.

She’s in her “My Little Pony” phase right now. So we watched a few episodes. Played Pony games on my computer. Jumped on my little rebounder. Had conversations about Christmas trees and stars on top. She wandered around the house, touching, talking, teaching me about Pony lore.

I followed faithfully. She didn’t stop moving.

Ryken, on the other hand, was fascinated by the Christmas tree. The lights held him spellbound. And the ceiling fan captured his attention. John picked him up after twenty minutes of tummy time on the floor, and he quickly fell asleep. No whimper. No crying. No complaining. He rested after having enjoyed the sights.

When the kids were picked up several hours later, I was exhausted. John was rested.

This is the smart me at Christmas–and the not so smart.

I’m Isley with big-girl shoes. Running around trying to do everything that should be done to make Christmas fun and special. Decorate the house. Make cookies for the family and neighbors. Find the best possible gifts for all the folks I love and care for. Get out cards. Send pictures. Clean the house for the family that’s coming home.

It’s exhausting.

I want to be Ryken. To enjoy the moment, the reason Christmas is worth celebrating. To rest in the wonder of what I know to be true. To be awed by the beauty and simplicity of the story that has changed my life.

“For a Child is born to us, a Son is given to us. The government will rest on His shoulders. And He will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end. He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of His ancestor David for all eternity.”   Isaiah 9:6-7

During this season, when so many fight about what should be displayed or said, what should be celebrated or not, looking at the historical truth of the birth of Messiah, the One promised to save us from our own darkness, is pure hope and rest. To be still long enough to consider that we’re so loved that God came to earth to live among us, to tell us of His forgiveness and then provide it as a gift.

A silent night that brought joy to the world.

I need to be still to think on that.

Second photo courtesy of fanpop.com.