The Season Begins

“I’m NOT ready!” I felt like shouting it Sunday morning when I flipped the page on my daily calendar. There was the final day of November glaring at me – reminding me of all I needed to do. November 30 – how I wished for a November 31, but it wouldn’t happen.

My mind ran back to the Etta hill where my parents began preparing for the celebration of Christmas in early October. They took advantage of the kind, fall temps to haul the wagon-load of trees onto our lawn. While we children were occupied with school and homework, Daddy was pile-driving holes in the lawn with a sledgehammer, and Mother was sorting the strings of tree lights.

That was then. This November 30 was now. It was still glaring at me reminding me of the Christmas lights packed in the back of the attic along with every Christmas decoration we owned. I looked past the calendar at the mantel decked in pumpkins and gourds. How out of place they looked now!

I quickly rehearsed past Christmases and the weighted schedules of music presentations, luncheons, Lottie Moon observances, parades, parties, invitations, brunches and caroling and . . . STOP – I told my speeding recall. Overwhelm makes a vexatious companion, and he was creeping closer and closer.

Our drive to worship later that morning should have been more reflective in preparation, but Overwhelm rode behind me in the back seat. He was an enemy to my spirit.

Suddenly a miracle happened, and it happened the last Sunday in November with Thanksgiving leftovers in the frig and sagging pumpkins on the front porch. I entered the sanctuary, and three-story (it seemed) Christmas trees flanked the choir. The sanctuary lights were dimmed, so the generous strings of white tree lights gave the space a warm glow. Lighted garlands with glittering adornments circled the giant site and drew me into its peaceful atmosphere. Then the music began: “O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant . . . O come, let us adore Him . . . Christ, the Lord.”

I was instantly inoculated with the Christmas spirit, and my heart rejoiced over the wonderful meaning of the season. Overwhelm was crushed. His fate is in the garbage bin with the sagging pumpkins. Let the season begin!

“But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law.” Galatians 4:4

LORD, fill our hearts to the brim with the joy of Your coming to earth! In Jesus’ name, Amen.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

• Camille Anding is a child of God since age 12.
• Wife of 53 years to Othel; mother to Tahya and Eli;l grandmother to seven grandchildren and two great-grands.
• Retired from photography business with Othel. Now carry cameras on their travel adventures.
• Freelance writer, regular contributor to Hometown magazines, and dedicated to living “my utmost for His highest.”