on the eve of it all.

Last weekend our favorite baby was making his debut stage appearance as the newborn baby Jesus in a children’s Christmas play.

Of course we wanted to sit in the audience for that spectacular show.

Also, some sweet friends were performing as well so we loaded up our chariot and drove forth across town.

The play was everything right about a children’s Christmas performance and the fact that I was expecting something completely different made the evening so much the sweeter and more adorable.

Otto sat in my lap and Piper was to my left and I had no young children in the show myself and I wasn’t directing a single part of any of it so I could just sit there and crack up and stuff down my giggles and enjoy Piper’s elbowing me when all The Funny kept happening.  I loved the siblings center stage playing peek-a-boo with their crowns and the little wise man who just wanted everyone to know that he was bringing the myrrh so he said it not once – but about thrice.  It was an innocent kind of glory taking place that night, dressed in robes and sashes, with pure faces and sincere hearts.

After the performance ended we were guided to spread out around the edges of the giant room while candles were passed along and the lights were all turned off and there was a single candle lit while we all listened.  And the building is vintage old with a gargantuan ceiling and the vastness of space only aided in the magic of the moment.

There was that tiny cynic of a voice in my head thinking a dark room and a hundred candles and a voice leading us felt cliche but I shoved that voice aside and remembered that other, wiser voice – the one that says give this a chance and all truth is God’s truth, whatever kind of method it comes to you and just because you are jaded certainly doesn’t mean your children are, nor the rest of the world.

And then the words were spoken.

Of course God showed up when I pushed the voice of cynicism down and tuned my heart to hear His grace.

A gentle and hope filled reminder.

The light in the darkness.

What we are all waiting for.

And from one candle, a hundred other candles were lit and the room was glowing with soft light and a tangible presence of a Bigger Light Than Our Own Fluorescent and Harsh Forced Light.

There is hope

and his name is Jesus.

And it’s the entire celebration.

He is the party.

It was a lovely and a still moment

in a day, in a season, in a year, filled and stuffed down with hard and busy and distracted.

I think about the ways that I’ve done this season sort of lopsided and wrong this year

and I want to kick myself and I wish I was better at adventing like the rest of the world seems to be

and planning acts of kindness and baking for my neighbors and for the mailman and for the delivery guy and for the Starbucks manager and for his uncle too.

I wish I had done all those things with the kids and I wish I had lit candles every night in a circle on a beautiful wooden block and I wish I had lead them in some sort of nightly ritual to remind them of all that this month is really leading to.  I feel like I kind of mucked it up this year and I missed opportunities and I haven’t turned their faces to a daily focus like I meant to do originally.

Then I read a quote somewhere that I should give credit to right now, but my brain just can’t find the right rabbit hole to recall where I heard it so forgive me internets if I misquote, but basically the person said – I forgot the fact that I can’t mess up Christmas because Christmas isn’t about me.

I can’t mess it up for my kids.

This week Otto has been thrilled with his progress in spelling – he can spell EVE and of course if for some reason he feels celebratory about that then I also feel celebratory with him and it’s the EVE that reminded me of this whole thing to begin with.

The EVE that starts the new moment.

The EVE that brings the light and the hope of an entire weary world.

I can’t mess that up.