Life of Eucharisteo

The words spilled out before I knew what was happening. They spilled out like a jar of marbles scattering everywhere. Spilled from my jar. The one I keep inside for just such words. Christmas started out much like it always does for my brood. The day AFTER Thanksgiving starts our Christmas season. We collect our 15 year old tree from the box in the barn. We pull out all the ornaments and reminisce over each and every one. We bake cookies. We listen to Christmas carols for 31 days straight, and we celebrate the birth of our King. Every year I watch my girls revel in all things Christmas, and every year I share in their joy. But for me, it always tastes bittersweet. You see since her first Christmas, I’ve felt like a big fat liar. I’ve done a great job at stuffing it. Stuffing the big secret into my jar and feeding into the fantasy. Why not? I lived it. It was fun. It was magical. It was what dreams were made of and I wanted her to experience the joy of Christmas. At least ...

I’ve been thinking a lot about Mary and Joseph this Christmas Season. Wondering what they must have felt in those days and months leading up to Christ’s birth. As a mother I’m usually drawn more to Mary’s story. I can feel how uncomfortable she was riding atop that donkey. Pain with each bump as she tried to cushion the blows to the Baby King. However, this year I’ve tried to see things from Joseph’s perspective. I’ve tried to step into his shoes and walk the lonely path to which he was called. A lonely path indeed. How many men do you know who would have, stepped up to the plate so to speak, the way that Joseph did. What a responsibility! Not only was he taking on the responsibility of a child he did not concieve….he was taking on the responsibility of caring for God’s Own Son. The Messiah! A friend blessed me this month by introducing me to Jason Crabb’s Christmas CD. My favorite track tells the story through Joseph’s eyes. I hope it blesses your heart as much as...