Perfectly imperfect
Many of you know that I am, in fact, a bit of a Christmas enthusiast. The music, the (bad) movies, the decorations, traditions. All of it. I will battle to the end that Die Hard is a Christmas movie and it should be watched annually, lest the season have slightly less cheer.
As a husband to a band teacher, part of my celebrations over the last 20 years have also been band concerts. It has always been a joy to watch Malie conduct these students who have worked so hard and see the pride she has in her kids, hearing their growth.
And now, as a dad, it all gets magnified. Getting to see middle school orchestra and choir performances in addition to elementary and middle band is a gift. It, without fail, brings tears to my eyes as the joy of the season gets expressed by a new group of kids.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve noticed something else, too. The joy of other parents. When I went as spouse, I observed the pride in these parents’ eyes, but didn’t recognize its depth. I do now.
There is a twinkle in the eyes of a proud parent or loving adult as their kid plays the violin in public for the first time, or sings with a school choir.
These concerts, and other similar types of performances are perfectly imperfect. There are always mistakes that happen and yet, the performance always goes as it needs to.
I find some comfort in seeing this season as perfectly imperfect. Houses always decorated nicely, but never perfect; food correct…but a tad dry; stress levels high but hidden from sight.
The gospel reading for the fourth Sunday of Advent tells Joseph’s side of the Christmas story. He’s engaged, all is well, but an angel appears in a dream telling him that Mary is actually pregnant. He is to stay with her and name the child Jesus, which means God saves. Although his instinct is to leave her quietly and save her the shame, he doesn’t.
It’s always a good reminder that the Christmas story happens in the middle of normal, imperfect human lives. Nobody was ready for it, nobody was prepared, nothing about the situation was perfect for anyone.
And yet, that is where God chose to enter our world; in our perfectly imperfect lives and routines and traditions. There is some grace and freedom in that, isn’t there? If God chose a time like that to show up with that particular group of people, then surely the grace of God can be born among us today.
So enjoy what is left of this magical season, relish all of the imperfections, glory in the light of God that comes for you even if you aren’t quite ready for it. O Come, Emmanuel, we pray. God is coming for you. All of you.
