A Christmas Lesson...

A couple of Christmas' ago, I was not in a "good place". I was in the perpetual exhaustive state of most moms with a 5 month old baby. I was dealing with all of the daily pleasures that twin teenagers tend to lavish their parents with, and still trying to be "Mary Poppins" for my 3 and 5 year olds. My psoriatic arthritis had resurged with a vengeance after the birth of the baby, and I was in constant agonizing pain. All the while, I was still providing daycare for 3 children, two of whom were also babies. I was at my emotional and physical wit's end. My teens were all but oblivious to what I was going through which was partially my fault for always trying to hide how bad things were. And they were very dedicated students and musicians working hard in their last year of highschool.

My wonderful husband, being a church musician and working in youth ministry, was in the midst of his busiest time of year. Still, after adult choir rehearsals, teen choir rehearsals, childrens' choir rehearsal, the rehearsals for the Christmas pageant, the religious ed classes, the weddings, funerals, meetings, and planning sessions, he would come home to help as much as he could including fixing dinner most nights, bathing the little ones, reading their bedtime story, praying with them, and tucking them in. All while I cried in pain, embracing my heating pad in one arm and my nursing baby in the other.

As the Holidays approached, I was becoming more and more aware of my physical limitations. All the pretending in the world could not hide that I was becoming incabable of even some of the simplest household tasks. There were days when I couldn't trust my arms to hold the baby safely and depended on propped pillows to protect her while she nursed. My sweet little Caleb became a pro at fixing his own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Letting him down was beginning to weigh on me the most. Here he was in such formative years and mommy couldn't take him out to play and didn't even have the energy to do our preschooling together. Still... the one thing we had was cuddling. And we did a lot of it.

I tried my hardest to get the house ready for the festivities around the corner. Being the only female of my generation in our extended family, the Holidays are always at our home. That is a scenerio I always embraced... until that year. I knew I had no choice. I had to do it. If not for anyone else, for my two little ones who were so excited about Christmas coming.

Each day of preparation was torture. Every task I did, the daycare "adventures" undid. Every gift I purchased was one more still unwrapped upstairs... where I could not even climb the stairs to find.

I remember that Christmas Eve vividly. I was still scrubbing, baking, wrapping and decorating. My "to do" list was revised into an abridged "emergency necessities" list. As I was finishing up the last dessert, I broke down in a flood of tears. Mike and I were so dirt poor that year, we were not giving each other a gift. But I had resolved early in the season that after 21 years of marriage, this was going to be the year I made him a strawberry cheesecake from scratch.

The first Holiday I had ever spent with his family, Mike's mom made a lovely strawberry cheesecake, especially for him. It was his favorite dessert at the time. I remember thinking way back then, that someday I would learn to make one for him.

So... here I was... in the middle of our kitchen, surrounded by flour, sugar, pans, dishes, crying babies, whining little ones, half-wrapped presents, cookies galore... and... no strawberry cheesecake. I just laid my head in my arms and sobbed. 21 years and I couldn't even make him a stinking strawberry cheesecake for Christmas... That was all I had wanted to do for him...

Well, I gathered myself together and mustered whatever energy I could to finish the tasks that had to be done. Lots of traditions took the back seat that year in order to accomodate my challenges...

Then something unexpected happened. Our son Joshua came through the door with a bunch of goodies from our neighbors across the street. This lovely husband and wife with their own brood of grown children and many grandchildren, never forgot us at Christmas. Every year she would bake cookies and breads or cakes and send them over wrapped all pretty. I took the bundles from Joshua's arms. They must have heard we were having a tough year, because there was even more than usual. And there was a note. "Linda, keep all of the tins and platters, but when you are finished with it, could you please return the spring pan".

I opened the foil wrap. The tears returned. There, amidst the cookies and breads was the most perfect strawberry cheesecake.

All of a sudden, everything I ever thought about Christmas was transformed. It all came to life. This was the body of Christ in action. The Lord... and only the Lord, knew that a simple strawberry cheesecake was a desire of my heart to give as a gift to my husband. In my weakness that year, I was not able to do it. But by God's strength, and I'm sure His inspiration... He sent it to me via our neighbor.

I felt God's love for me so much in that moment. I felt Him embracing me. Letting me know that even if no one else in the world knew what I was going through... He did. It was also a reminder that if He could find a way to make a homemade strawberry cheesecake show up on our front door on Christmas Eve, that I should hold fast to Him because there was so much more He could do, and would do to help me out of that "place" I was in.

It didn't matter to me that I hadn't been the one to make the cake. This was so much better! A Christmas miracle good enough to eat! I wrote my neighbors a letter detailing what that cake meant to me. They were very moved and we all rejoiced in how God uses us to be a light to each other in this world.

I've been thinking about that Christmas Eve a lot today. As I was primping our Christmas tree in the front window, I saw my neighbor shoveling his front walk. His wife died suddenly earlier this year and this will be his first Christmas without her. My heart swelled as I imagined for a moment what he must be feeling. I know he is blessed to have many doting children who are his constant company and surround him with love and care. But it isn't the same... I thought of that strawberry cheesecake, and all the other desserts that graced our Christmas door. I thought of how those packages won't come anymore, but those loving gestures will warm my Christmas memories forever. I will especially never forget how God used a cheesecake... and a neighbor, to renew my hope.

And I am left wondering, praying... about what I can do in turn this year for my neighbor... "May the Lord ease his sorrow, and comfort him in His holy embrace" ... an embrace so often delivered in very unexpected packages...