Earlier today, Kim asked me if I was writing my Christmas blog post. I’ve been struggling with whether to write such a blog post, and if I do, what I would write. Perhaps, I’ve already written my Christmas blog post at work, Nicholas and Isaac.

Kim always seems to want some sort of affirmative blog post around special days, talking about what a wonderful wife she is, what a great cook she is, and so on. She is all that and so much more. She especially looks for these posts at Christmas, a time which has always been magical for her, but difficult for me.

There are traditions about Christmas that are important to me. Cutting down a fir tree for Christmas with my daughters, preferable balsam, inspired by The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree, which I read to my daughters when they were little. A Christmas Goose, a tradition from my early days as a parent. Hanukkah Geld, a tradition from my childhood, that I’m not even sure how it started.

Unfortunately, the past few years have seen the tradition of the complicated Christmas with my older daughters off on their own. It has been further complicated by illness and car troubles making the shopping all the more difficult.

This year, Kim and Fiona picked a precut blue spruce on their own. We are having duck instead of goose, and there was no Hanukkah geld. It is the Christmas of transition. Fiona is hoping that next year, she will be coming home from school in a different state to join us for the holidays. I am expecting big changes as I explore more deeply religious aspects of my life.

Yet Christmas is for everyone. It isn’t just for those who had magical Christmases as children. It isn’t just for those who share our beliefs, be they political or religious beliefs. On one Facebook page, people discussed where a certain presidential candidate whose words and actions seem very far from their views about what Jesus is calling us to do, would be spending Christmas Eve.

I tried not to be judgmental and posted,

Praying for everyone who comes to church on this most holy evening, that they may have life changing experiences of our God Incarnate leading to amendment of life and showing forth God's love throughout the coming year.

For me, some of the important parts of Christmas Eve was chatting with some of my homeless friends who gather near my office at work. It was donating to an organization that helps refugees as my present to Kim.

At Church, our priest Amanda talked about the shepherds, about people not ready for the coming of God Incarnate. It seems like none of us are ever really ready for Christmas, but it happens anyway.

Kim was going to get me Leaving Church, by Barbara Brown Taylor, a book that it has almost become a cliché to give to people exploring the priesthood. She couldn’t easily get a copy and got me Learning to Walk in the Dark instead, also by Barbara Brown Taylor.

It starts with “Come inside now, it’s getting dark”. A phrase Barbara Brown Taylor often heard as a child, telegraphing concern about the dangers lurking in the darkness. I thought of my childhood, hearing a similar phase, and reluctantly leaving the magical time of dusk.

It makes me think of William Styron’s Darkness Visible about his struggles with depression. It makes me think of the Dark Night of the Soul. This whole process makes me think of what a friend posted on Facebook a few days ago

It's often frustrating to be a saint-in-process. Why does it take so long for maturity, for transformation, for developing more of the elusive fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, and the rest. Jeff Peabody has a helpful thought: Jesus becoming a baby automatically put God's seal of approval on a slow process. It was quite a while from birth to baptism to beginning his ministry. Something to ponder this Christmas season.

This struggle comes to mind as I read a couple Facebook posts from a friend whose baby died this summer. All of the happy pictures of families celebrating together was difficult and she posted about Jesus coming for the bereft and outcasts. Later, she apologized for her bitterness and anger, and everyone was quick to tell her no apologies were needed.

Jesus did come for the bereft and outcasts. He came for the presidential candidates making their show of going to church on Christmas Eve. He came for those who had magical childhood Christmases. He came for those who had disappointing childhood Christmases. He came for those posting happy family pictures on Facebook and for those at the homeless shelter on Christmas Eve. He came for those in the midst of deep grief. He came for those who waited in eager anticipation, for those keeping a Holy Advent, and for those completely unprepared.

The Christmas message from the Diocese had a line that particularly jumped out at me.

the good news is that God in Jesus, born again in the mangers of our lives, is the Messiah, the Lord.