The thing about Christmas is that you wait and you wait and you wait for it to get here…and then it ends.
And you wait for the next one.
I spend all year waiting for Christmas. The anticipation begins with January 1st. I wait for the lights and the music and the decorations all year long. I’ve always been that way.
But I’m not guaranteed next Christmas. I’m not even guaranteed tomorrow. Or the day after that.
I have an idea of what my Christmas future will be. I have my hopes and my wishes about what it will be. It could turn out a lot better than planned. It could turn out a lot worse. Or it may not be worse…just different.
It’s all a big, wintery blank.
Yet, in spite of all the looming blankness that comes with adulthood and growing into it, my inner seven-year-old insists that everything will turn out right. Or at the very least, the way things should be.
It’s not that I have no responsibility. It’s not that the outcome of the year is not influenced by the choices I make or the steps I take. But there are many influencing factors in my life that are 100% out of my control, and I’ve accepted that.
Who knows that tomorrow holds but God Himself? And I know His plans for me are perfect. With that knowledge, I know I have many merry Christmases ahead of me.