A Christmas Lament

We try so hard to forget

That this world is not our home.

That the day is mostly darkness

And the cold is biting our cheeks.

We hang lights to chase away

The sadness that the dark invites.

We buy packages that we’re sure

Will bring celebration and connection.

We gather at restaurants

We gather in homes.

We load up the car

To scout bright sites for hungry eyes.

Hungry eyes.

Aching hearts.

Empty arms.

Nothing on earth can truly fill us.

So we wander from site to pretty site.

We plan for ways to slow down

And take in all the magic.

But the magic was never there.

The wonder cannot be found.

It’s a shadow of the Real Thing.

And the Real Thing will come again.

Oh the ache of knowing

That you’re far from Home.

And these attempts to bring wonder

Are beautiful, empty shells.

It’s okay if you feel sad this Christmas.

It’s okay if you want the Real Thing.

It’s okay if with every carol

Your ache for Home grows stronger still.

You were not made for here.

There is nothing magical about Christmas.

Nothing that you can call wonderful.

And you know it very well.

So what now?

What do you do with this grief?

Lean into the ache.

It’ll draw you to Him.

He knows what it’s like

To watch the world

Try to fill itself with magic and bows

Ignoring the longing, so it doesn’t show.

But I think that a Christmas lament.

Brings us closer to Nativity.

That grief is the magic of Christmas.

Telling us, that there is more.

This is not it.

And once you know that,

You can never go back.

So you groan and you wait.

You hang the lights.

You wrap the gifts.

You sing the songs.

And you hold onto the Real Thing.

He’s coming again.

And it won’t feel like magic.

It will be a terrifying, awesome reunion.

And it will be truly Wonderful.