Mary, Did You Know (Bethlehem Didn't have a Hobby Lobby)?

I am positive that mine isn't the only blog you read.

100%.

That being said, I am also positive that you, like I,

have seen a 100 Christmas mantels, 1,000 Holiday vignettes, 10,000 Sugar cookies, 

trees, lights, glass bulbs and garland all over blogland.

I am overwhelmed and inspired by all of of it.

AND all of you- 

the creative and sentimental

keepers of your abode, 

lovers of your brood, 

decorators of your homes.

Y'all are a combination of dozens of my favorite magazines!

Christmas has always been my favorite season to decorate.

I love helping Mark get the boxes down and out of the loft in the garage.

I enjoy seeing the new pretties I got the day after Christmas that I forgot I about.

I am fond of seeing all the ornaments once again, the new ones and the heirlooms.

But once it's all out of its hibernation state, I lose perspective.

Even I, a designer by trade, am baffled by the sheer supply
of frou frous that enamored me enough to put them in my cart.

WHY do I need all this stuff?

WHAT good does it do me spending 335 days out of its existence packed up

and stored where the sun don't shine?

WHERE do I "vignette" it all?

WHEN did it seem like a good idea to own every vintage flocked bird 

that the retired lady was selling at her Spring Estate Sale?

WHO am I trying to impress?

This year, I am asking myself these questions as I unwrap each morsel of adornment.

It's not that I don't enjoy these things,

but somewhere along the way, their lure has lost its luster.

It has been replaced by the conclusion that meaning doesn't come from a shiny, reflective ball,

flocked snow, painted twigs and adorable stockings.

Or that the season's purpose needs more embellishment by me.

2,000 years ago, our dying race was given the most beautiful present ever imaginable.

Was it wrapped in polka-dotted ribbon?

With a glittery tag?

Was this gift placed under a dazzling tree?

Nope.

This gift lay in a mucky, lightless, unbeautified and unembellished barn.

Mary did not visit Hobby Lobby or Michael's for ribbon, wreaths or bulbs.

Joseph wasn't up on the roof attaching light strands with thatch clips.

I am pretty sure that there wasn't any eggnog or wassail to imbibe.

But what we ARE told is that this night, the light of the world came to us.

This night, the neighborhood was visited by it's first ever Heavenly carolers.

This night, heaven came to earth and emancipated it.

I can still deck our halls and hang the mistletoe.

But, as I sing along with each hymn,
display each shining item that I have found on sale or in a box on someone's driveway,

as I liberate the crafts designed years ago by my toddler's fingers
and
arrange and rearrange the lights on the bushes,

I will remember that the reason I treasure this season so much 

is that my Jesus is
the true light of the world, the creative embellisher, the original beautifier
and liberator of treasures, emancipator of souls.

He is the gift to my heart.
And Hobby Lobby has nothing on sale that compares to that.
And I'll bet Mary would have said the same thing.

.