Overwhelmed by Gratitude this Christmas

Have you ever had a moment where you reflect on your life and think of how many times the Lord provided and protected, his providential hand on moments of significance? During advent I always remember the longing to have a child and also how that dream came to fruition. I remember holding both babies in my arms as Christmas season arrived first one year and then in the next. In those newborn days during back to back Christmases I walked the hallways at night, light flooding through the windows from the incandescent vintage bulbs my husband is so fond of. I rocked and sang and bounced. I remember whispering Christmas lullabies as they gently drifted to sleep. I remember staying up into the wee hours and hearing our Christmas lights click off while I tried to work in the last feeding of the night. I cherish the memories of holding and covering them at Christmas Eve service, anxiously hoping they wouldn’t cry out during the quiet parts. Now a couple of Christmases later I have little people who can tell me what they’d like for Christmas. We talk about Jesus, our Rescuer, born and laid in a manger, the King of the world. They ask questions like, “where are the wise men in that picture?” and “how is a baby born?” Hmmm.

At the same time I see their names embroidered on stockings (that we may actually fill this year because they are beginning to understand how this Christmas thing works), I see them as babies under the tree, sleeping through Christmas festivities. I cannot begin to express how overwhelmed I am by the gifts that they represent in just being here. I tell them each day how happy I am that they’re in our family. This usually happens right before bed because so much of the time they are awake, I am thinking of what needs to be done to keep us on our schedule, or what fun activity will capture their interest.

I’m weighing the discipline of the moment. I don’t really live in the gratitude of it all. But at night, when it’s quiet, or in the odd moment they’re both napping, I see it. I see the gift. I see it through the mini dump truck tucked in the basket next to my book. I hear it in the utter absence of noise, I feel it in the warmth of laundry I fold. I sense it in the way that my heart yearns for love to cover a multitude of the ways I’ve gotten it wrong today.

If I’m honest, I don’t always turn to God in those moments, but on occasion I do. Today I thank him for the gifts. I thank him for coming as a tiny baby to a poor family, excluded and whispered about in scandal. I thank him that after his glory left the temple all those years before, it came back to shepherds in a field. It came back so that we all might have hope. I thank him for his mercy that in these quiet moments, tucked away in the busyness of the season, I have hope. We all have hope for change, for peace, for rest from striving and worry. The Savior of the World came as the Rescuer for all people. I pray that I might play a small part in conveying that message. Lord, may we marvel and wonder at the glory that settled on the temple for the Israelites­—the same glory that appeared to the shepherds is available to us. We must simply trust you.

About Me

I’m Kendra Hanson, lover of words and believer in Jesus. I write about faith, believing God is who he says he is and can do what he says he can do. You will also find here musings on motherhood, work/life balance and a few DIY projects from our 1950's ranch in Georgia.