Last night, we set up our Christmas tree. Pulled out all of the Rubbermaid boxes from the garage that hold decorations, ornaments, towels, pillows, all the festive stuff. And of course, found all of my Thanksgiving decorations behind the Christmas boxes. Right.
While the seasonal music played softly in the background, we placed all of our ornaments on the tree. Everyone having its own story. All of us laughed and smiled and teased each other. It was sweet. It was bittersweet.
It's hard to face, but since both of my children have become teenagers, my brain has been counting down time. My daughter is just about done with high school and my son is just about in. The truth is that we are making precious memories now to look back on later, when my children are no longer under my roof, when they have gone on with their lives and have families of their own. I will be happy for them, I will love their spouses and their children. But I will forever hold in my heart our little traditions, our little jokes and fun and trees and games and movies and moves and heartaches and sacrifices.
Perhaps all of the prophesies that Mary heard before and after the birth of Jesus gave her an advanced bittersweetness. I am sure that she often remembered stinky shepherds and gift-laden traveling political advisors, the smell of hay and fear and new baby. She pondered all of those things in her heart. With all of the joy she experienced with being chosen by God, she endured moments that I cannot come close to imagining. But she was able to see her Son accomplish His purpose.
So during this Advent season, I will follow her example; releasing my children to fulfill their callings, but holding tightly to the memories.
I will lovingly ponder those for a lifetime.
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