This morning the girls were working on an impromptu Christmas play to perform for my husband and me. The rehearsals began with a manic (and obnoxiously loud) rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
“Mommy, we want you to be surprised, so don’t listen,” Madeline instructed.
Don’t listen. Ah, wouldn’t that be nice if I could tune out the ear-splitting singing, bell-ringing, and constant merrymaking?
Of course, then I would have missed this little exchange.
“This isn’t Christ-y enough,” Madeline said.
“Christ is born, what a beautiful sight!” she sang, making up her own little ditty about how the birth of Jesus is what Christmas is all about. (Her song was a whole lot nicer to the ears than “Jingle Bells,” I might add.)
“‘Cwyist’ is booooorrrrrrn, what a beautiful sight!” her little sister echoed.
Their performance left me wondering if my Advent has been Christ-y enough. I made it to my church’s penance service last night. We’ve been making Jesse Tree ornaments each day and praying the rosary more often. Our manger for Jesus is filled with soft yarn as a sign of the sacrifices we’ve been making. But, still, I don’t feel like I’ve been all that Christ-y.
Just the other day Madeline startled me when I had slipped away in silence to have some time to just be alone (oh, how I’ve been craving solitude lately – more on that hopefully in a future post, which I long ago started a draft of but can’t find the time -or quiet – to finish).
“Mommy?” It was a sweet, polite interruption, but I didn’t take it as such.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
“I…I…” She stammered, blinking back the tears.
I can’t even remember what she wanted. The moment was lost first in my frustration of being interrupted (again) and then in the pangs of regret that immediately followed.
The moment I lashed out, I felt pricks of remorse. In truth, I was trying to find God in the quiet. That’s what Advent is all about, right? Finding Christ in the midst of the holiday chaos and commercialism. I’m relentless in my searching. I’d hoped to find Him tucked away in the manger, softly sleeping. I wanted to find Him in the stillness of deep prayer.
Christmas Day is a little more than one week away, and I still haven’t found Him. Maybe that’s because I’ve been looking in all the wrong places. God isn’t only found in one human child born in Bethlehem long ago – He is found in all children, my children. God is in each child with whom I give the gifts of time, patience, gentleness.
While my searching for God will never end, neither will my finding. He’s in the tears of a tired child. He’s in the countless interruptions. He’s in the joyous, albeit deafening at times, singing of my kids. When I start to see Him in everyone I encounter, that is when Christ’s birth happens within me. That is when I become what my daughter would call more Christ-y.
Wow, you have some beautiful children!
I too struggle with finding God. I'm always asking, "Please God, send me a sign that you are here!" If my stubborn pride got out of the way I could see that there are signs all around me! It's times like these that I remember the quote by St. Augustine, "My heart is restless, O God, until it rests in Thee."
Love that they put on a play all by themselves! Kate, we all get frustrated with everyday interruptions. We're human after all :) But the fact that you aknowledge it right away (and probably apologized to your daughter) makes you such a Christ-y mom!
Great post! I needed that reminder with the learning how to juggle a newborn, other children, loads of relatives, and finding time for Christ. God is obviously offering me loads of opportunity to find him in others right now and I really appreciate that reminder! Thanks!!
Sigh. I do that to my kids sometimes. And then feel bad. Quiet time is so nice, but hard to come by around here.
Beautiful reflection.