So Christmas is here(ish).
I don’t know about you, but around here, Christmas is never something we really ease into. As soon as we get home from Thanksgiving weekend, the switch is flipped and we go into high gear.
The Christmas parties start almost immediately. We always host at least one or two, so that means food and house prep. Then we go to a couple others, which means dress prep.
The SEC Championship is always the first weekend of the month. And the two teams represented in this house (Florida and Georgia) have each made an appearance there in the past few years, which means so do we.
We gotta squeeze in Caroline’s birthday party as soon as possible. (Poor kid, born December 23.) Plus, there are several other December birthdays in my family. (Nobody should be allowed to be born in December.)
There’s picking out the tree and decorating the tree and the house, which has to be scheduled since we don’t always have all the kids. That involves chili and eggnog and cooperating and lifting heavy things.
Sometimes we do Christmas cards, which involves coordinating a family photo shoot (no small feat), creating cards on Snapfish or Vistaprint, addressing, stamping and mailing. (No cards this year. But MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!)
And of course, we haven’t even talked about shopping yet. Gotta work that in there somewhere.
We typically start nailing down plans for the actual Christmas holiday back in the summer, given all the different schedules we have to negotiate. The kids all have three sets of grandparents (and not all the SAME grandparents) who all want to see them. For one week of their Christmas break, we’re all together somewhere. For the other week, they’re all gone.
So as you can see, it’s a rollercoaster. But I desperately try to keep a red-lipsticked smile on my face and unspeakable joy in my heart. No pressure.
But in the midst of that, there’s Jesus. Always Jesus.
One thing that helps me stay focused is my yearly Christmas Question. Every year for the last ten years or so, I’ve wrestled with a Christmas Question. There’s always a new angle of the Christmas story I haven’t thought of, some detail I need to ponder and wonder about. (At the time of this writing, this year’s Christmas Question has yet to present itself. Stand by.)
Back when I worked at First Baptist in Ocala, I had an entire staff of pastors at my disposal for all my questions (Christmas and otherwise). I’m sure they all grew weary of my emails with the subject line ‘Question’ and me plopping down in their offices and announcing, “I have a question.”
(Of course, now I’m married to a preacher who doesn’t get to preach much so my questions are met with great enthusiasm and sometimes a 35-minute sermon. God help me.)
But probably my strongest weapon against distraction is having the right Christmas music playing in the background of my life. And one of my favorites, maybe my very favorite, is The Little Drummer Boy. Pa-rum-pa-pum-freakin’-pum.
It’s not biblical. It’s not theologically airtight. But it’s powerful. (And hey, at least it’s not Santa Baby or Christmas Shoes. You’re welcome.)
You know the story. There’s this Little Drummer Boy of unknown age, but he sounds pretty young to me, maybe in the 6-10 range. The kid hears about the newborn King being born and tags along with some others who are taking their ‘finest gifts’ to Him.
But he’s poor. He has no gift. But by golly, he’s got his drum.
Shall I play for You? Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum. On my drum?
The Baby’s mother nods so the kid starts to play.
I played my drum for Him. Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.
I played my best for Him. Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum. Rum-pa-pum-pum. Rum-pa-pum-pum.
(Here comes the best part. Wait for it, wait for it…)
Then He smiled at me. Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum. Me and my drum.
I have to blink back tears every time I hear that part. Good grief, what in the world could you ever want more than Jesus smiling at you? Seriously. On my better days, I LIVE for that smile.
There’s a reason Jesus holds up childlike faith as the ultimate standard.
Kids just get it, man. We think they don’t. They’re too young. They don’t understand the complicated nature of the world. Their faith is ignorant, naïve and blind.
Or maybe it’s just unburdened, undistracted and pure.
Kids don’t know they’re supposed to be intimidated by power and greatness, so they run right into Jesus’ arms, just assuming He wants them. Because why wouldn’t He?
Kids don’t hesitate to give away what they’ve got because somebody gave it to them in the first place and they trust that there’s more where that came from.
Kids aren’t confused by the inconsistency of a King wrapped in rags, living in obscurity and hanging out with regular people. They’re just glad He does.
You know what I think? If the Little Drummer Boy had been a Big Drummer Grownup, he wouldn’t have gone to see Jesus. He would have been too ashamed of his poverty, too embarrassed that he had nothing to offer, too afraid of what everyone would think.
But not this kid. Heck no. If he hesitated because he had no gift, it wasn’t for long. The thrill of getting to see the King trumped any other emotion he may have been wrestling with. He was NOT going to miss this.
So he showed up. He brought all he had. And he offered it.
Sounds like another little hero we all know well. We never get his name, but the kid Matthew 14, Mark 6 and Luke 9 who offered his fish and bread to the disciples when they were facing the crisis of feeding 5,000 men (so probably more than twice that number, including women and children).
He showed up. He brought all he had. And he offered it.
And in each of these situations, one real and one fictitious, the embarrassingly small offering from the embarrassingly audacious kid ended up being more than enough.
So what does that mean for us this Christmas season?
I’ll tell you what it means for me. I’m gonna take a lesson from The Little Drummer Boy.
I’m gonna show up and play.
Caroline’s birthday party is not going to be perfectly Pinteresting. There won’t be tons of people and piles of presents. But we’re going to do it and I’m going to lead the celebration of my girl with laughter, grace and a little bit of crazy. It won’t be perfect. But it’ll be fun.
Know what else? Our Christmas tree will most likely not be up, nor will our house be decorated in time for the Christmas party that’s going to be here. The timing just didn’t work out. But you know what there will be? Yummy food, red and green Jello shots and good friends.
I do NOT have the perfect cocktail dress(es) lined up for the two fancy parties coming up. I have not hit my goal weight that I set back in January (even picked up a couple extra pounds over Thanksgiving). And there’s a better than average chance that I will forget to paint my toenails. But I’m gonna put on whatever I’ve got with a big smile and go enjoy my people.
I’m gonna show up and play.
The Little Drummer Boy didn’t wait until all the stars had aligned and everything was perfect to participate. Life was happening, he got an invitation and he jumped on it. He didn’t overthink it, second guess himself or weigh the pros and cons.
He didn’t give a THING. He gave HIMSELF.
And you know what? He nailed it.
Jesus doesn’t need our stuff. He created it all, owns it all, rules it all. But the most precious thing we could offer Him is ourselves. Every day. Christmas or not.
And there’s a drum in your hands. And the rhythm you’re supposed to play is your heartbeat. You’ve been given at least one gift that when you use it, the King smiles.
Maybe you can sing, dance, write, speak, cook, decorate, listen, hug, donate, serve, comfort, visit, purchase, give, house, entertain, encourage, deliver, come, go. Play your drum. Play it loud and proud.
Play your best for Him. Not out of guilt, obligation, fear or debt. Play because you love to play. And play because you love your Jesus.
Life will never be perfect. We can’t wait until we have more money, have more time, lose a little weight, get a better job, the kids get a little older. We’ve got a standing invitation from the King of Kings.
We gotta show up and play. Our best. For Him. And bask in His smile.
Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.
