...make your house fair as you are able
trim the hearth and set the table
people, look east and sing today:
love, the guest, is on the way.
---eleanor farjeon, 1928
I'm trying. My boxes are scattered across the floor, tops raggedly open, in multiple rooms, guts spilling out in a Tim Burton-esque holiday dreamscape that is equal parts mess and obstacle course. Trees are up and lit (no, I mean, you know, lighted...), and because I stayed up too late last night, they all have ornaments. Magi follow stars, shepherds wander here and there in search of...something they heard whispered on the wind. The angels stand and look, but you can tell they know more than they are saying.
And I am tired. In truth, November and December present some stumbling blocks for me, and I have to navigate the days with care. The holidays are difficult for the teens I work with; regardless of their history or the tough front they may present to the world, at Christmas they are kids who can't be home with mom. And I know that friends who have suffered loss of loved ones, broken relationships, or life changes during the year feel it most keenly during "the most wonderful time of the year".
And so my heart sometimes remains quite plain. No twinkling lights, no manger scenes or angels, no aromas of baking or wintry drinks simmering on the stove. No guiding star up above leads the way for me, or to me.
Come, Jesus. I welcome you, in this quiet, to my undecorated heart.
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