Noel in the Flurries

I believe every house on Magnolia Street is decorated this year. It's infectious, the greenery and jolly lights. It has spread good cheer all around and my husband is even turning on our fountains most every day, for good measure. Heaven knows we need a little Christmas now. I pulled our unwrapped gifts out of an old chiffarobe that I store them in...that's always an adventure because there's someone or something I've forgotten and that means a mad dash to the store before it's too late. 

I was ambitious this chilly Monday and headed to town to gather up groceries and those last minute gifts. This last week has been testy...I've been yelled at by a shop manager and a mean guy at the gym. Covid stress is buckling us down. There's been an ensemble concert (Carroll Community Wind Ensemble), caroling, craft day with the grands and all my gals, church twice, an ongoing art project, real estate closings to arrange, weights to lift, bicycles to ride, doctor appointments, lots of folks to chat with, a husband to see to, Mama to check on, food to prepare and then my Bible to read. Guess what got neglected? Yes, the dust was thick on that good book as I did my daily about-town dashes. I glanced at it as I hurried by, laid out on my dining table. My intentions were to serenely read it and seek His heart every morning, but literally every turn of the sun I got distracted or waylaid, usually by things that really weren't that important, if you look at it in the grand scheme of things. By week's end, my brain was swirling. Any time we sat down for a show or book, I was busy picking out pecans. Gobs of them. Then I salted and toasted them gently in the oven. Pecans are truly one of the best things God ever made. But on my diet plan, I am not allowed to have nuts. So I was gifting them to my friends and family, making pecan pies and little bags to bless people with. By Friday evening, I was tired and hungry, and my addiction to all things delicious reared its ugly head. I found myself alone in the kitchen, heady with the delectable smell of roasted pecans. One bite turned into countless bites and I went to bed guilty, like a squirrel with its cheeks bulging. I vowed to tell my sponsor or the Pope or somebody, but then one day turned into two. Tonight I finally came clean with her, after writing down lots of reasons why I let up my guard. This might seem very strange to some (to be obsessing about pecans and a few wayward bites), but I had nearly eaten myself into an early grave until God intervened last year. I view a breach in the dam of my program as life-threatening. I don't want to go back down that road, even if it is Christmas. Naw, I've already had more than my quota. 

But this evening, as my sponsor and I talked and her wisdom of years flowed over me, I thought of the Christ Child. He came for me, to lay down His life for all of my wayward ways, both great and even as small as a pecan obsession. I cannot do the things, cannot be the things that I need to be, in my own power. I don't care what the current sayings are, however well-intentioned...I am not enough. That is exactly why I need God. The principle of redemption sings through the Old and the New Testaments, where a Lamb is slain and takes away the sin of the world. That lowly manger, that King in the straw... Wise Men came from far away to worship Him. Wise men and women seek Him still. Merry Christmas.