A Reflection on Christmas Eve

This might be a little random, long, and intense - you've been warned.

I went to my cousin's Grandma Charlotte's house for a meal. Her extended family, a hearty grouping of friends, and five dogs crowd her small house. Everyone drinks beer and swears. I love it there. My 8 year old cousin's uncle calls him "shithead" and he responds in kind by refering to his uncle as an "asshole." He would be beat mercilessly if his grandmother Gillotti ever heard those words. They all give big gifts - usually cash. So boring. My cousin's great uncle was there - he's a great guy and really fun to talk to. They have heaps of money - all of them.

I went to the midnight service with my family. I made some notes in my bulletin - I'll try and educate everyone as to the point being made in each note:

Why could I never love Scott Losey? - Scott was a new kid at school when I was a senior. He was super ADD and really hyper. He got picked on a lot and made a fool out of himself. I could never force myself to love him. I talked to him, once or twice - but I never allowed my heart to bleed with compassion for him, I never wept at the deep understanding of his need for a savior, I never showed him any real love. He was at the service tonight. When he saw me his face lit up and he waved - real big. Why do I fail so often at loving people like Christ does?

It doesn't matter who you've slept with. - Pastor David was praying ... and making the point that it doesn't matter what sins you've committed in all circumstances you are welcome here. He said, "It doesn't matter where you've been, it doesn't matter what you've done. You are welcome here." All I could think was this one thought. It doesn't matter who you've slept with. Bill Thompson is accepted and welcomed. I am welcomed. My sister, mother, and father are welcomed. The man who raped my friend would be welcomed. People who have hurt me so drastically would be welcomed.

This song is me! - The 4th verse of "In the Bleak Midwinter" is the story of my life. It essentially says that all I have is my heart - so I'll give it to Jesus. That's me. I'm poor. All I have is my heart, college debt, and some free time. That's it. It's His. Let's hope he makes this wreck of a life brand new!

We sang the closing hymns, raised our candles, and gave hugs. It really was a merry Christmas. My mother's postlude was phenomenal. It gave me chills. We came home to a very hostile house. Dad had been slighted - his job, of 17 years tradition, was to dim the lights. He was sitting with us and the pastor's wife, thinking her husband hadn't covered all of his bases, dimmed the lights. He was furious. We tried to talk some reason into him, he yelled about how horrible the church is and how he can't leave because no one will let him - pure bull - and about how we always take the church's side. Mom cried, Rebecca bravely spoke out, I tried to talk some sense into him ... but, it sucked. Christmas Eve sucked.

When Rebecca's boyfriend lit his candle off of mine, we raised them together because everyone else was busy, I was so excited - This is why Christ came to earth. Christ didn't come to be a baby. He didn't come to glow and glimmer in a manger scene 200 years later. He came to change the world. He came to give life and hope to everyone. He came to change hearts. I cried, knowing that my future brother-in-law was reading the words to Joy to the World. That hymn, that beautiful hymn - that's why Christ came. I cried. I hugged people who hadn't been in church for a while (I challenged a ladies' Bible study group to do the same) And I skipped out of church.

Then I got home and my father had to suck the life out of everything. This might, honestly, be my last Christmas at home. It was nice to see everyone, but it's not worth it.

I'm baking some cinnamon rolls so that mom will be happy in the morning. Here's to a wonderful Christmas morning.