I awoke this Christmas morning to my youngest daughter, Jacki, impatiently tugging at my arm, begging me to get out of bed because Christmas Day had finally arrived. She poked and prodded at me until eventually her persistence paid off. I brushed the sand out of my eyes, and stumbled out of bed, towards the living room. We enjoyed our time together, first reading Luke's account of the birth of Christ, followed by exchanging gifts. Then, within a few fleeting moments, the time seemed to have escaped like a vapor, as the last of the gifts were opened, and our time around the tree came to a close.I love the anticipation that builds throughout the season. We make our way toward December 25th each year, culminating with children impatiently dragging their sleeping parents out of bed, because they can't wait to open the presents. However, so many times, the anticipation leading up to that great moment of the unveiling of the gifts is met with overwhelming disappointment. For some, it is the absence of that one special gift that brings a feeling of disappointment. For others, it might be the hurried pace of the days, and even hours leading up to that moment that are met with an incredible feeling of, "That's it? What was all of the anticipation for?"
I think sometimes that the waiting is what drives me crazy, but it is also what makes Christmas so special.
Last Thursday evening, my grandmother, Phyllis Jones, went home to be with Jesus. (Regretfully, I was unable to attend her funeral because she lived in Phoenix, AZ. She had struggled for many years with health issues, and had moved to Phoenix to be near my Aunt Mary, but also to aid in her breathing.)
Always in our phone conversations, Grandma would talk about the Lord. In her final months, I hated to hear her talk about how she felt her time here was coming to an end, but I loved to hear her talk about Jesus. When she talked about Him, it was like she was talking about an old friend. She KNEW Jesus, and so much of our conversation was about her longing to see Him, and to see Grandpa again. (Grandpa Jones died 3 years ago, around Thanksgiving time.) I would always try to get her to talk positively, about how Jesus could heal her, and make her better. No matter how many times I would change the subject to something else, still it would always end up right back there...Jesus & Grandpa.My dad told me that just last week, my aunt could hear her talking to Jesus while she was in the bathroom, saying, "Jesus, take me home," over and over. I mean, talk about anticipation...build-up...whatever you want to call it. My Grandma was ready to "go Home!" She was ready to see Jesus!
What's more is that I know Jesus was there to meet her. I would even like to think that He was looking forward to their meeting as much as she was. Psalm 116:15 tells us that, "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints." I imagine that as she closed her eyes here, she opened them to see Him, and that is amazing. What a Christmas Day this must have been for her!
I've been thinking about the story of Grandma talking to Jesus like that ever since my dad told me the other day. It was on my mind throughout the day today, that as we celebrate the birth of Jesus this year; as the completion of this holiday season leaves you with that empty feeling inside; there is coming a day when we will celebrate the birth of Jesus in a way that will not disappoint. There will be no post-holiday blues, no disappointment, no empty feelings of anticipatory build-up, and I long for that day even more than my daughter was longing to open her gifts this morning.
This Christmas, my Grandma was not disappointed.
She got her wish: Jesus & Grandpa.
