I am not ready for it. I am not excited. I cannot fake it. I really could skip Christmas this year. As soon as I heard the songs on the radio and saw the pictures of trees lit up beautifully, I wanted to hit a fast forward button and get to January already. Enough. It’s not even the busyness, somehow I have avoided that pitfall (or so I tell myself). The truth is, I simply cannot allow myself to indulge in a blissful picturesque notion of this season. I cannot. I think too much.

I think about my friend who is a new widow and trying to decide when to go back to work, while she navigates her children’s emotions at every turn. I think about my friend who is in a hospital bed in her home, immobile for weeks due to a severe injury. I think about another friend who is driving back and forth to Houston for her husband’s cancer treatments, in hopes that he may have a few more months with them. The list goes on and on…we all have these lists and some would argue that the lists are the reasons to celebrate in the times we are able to. Perhaps, but I am just not there.

I find myself at the pinnacle of disdain for tinsel and reindeer and a song comes on the radio:  “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”.

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Emmanuel. He is Coming. We anticipate Him. We celebrate his Incarnation, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). He came and He is coming again. Rejoice! Rejoice!

In Him, my heart can be real.

He sees all suffering. He experienced all suffering. He is the Answer.

He is Emmanuel, God with us.

As I lift up my precious ones in prayer, I will lean in to who He is and pray that the Prince of Peace comes to us.