Christmas is definitely over at our house—after a joy-and-laughter-filled Epiphany party and play reading Sunday night, our house is looking rather stripped bare. Not only did I finish packing away all the Christmas decorations last night, but we are getting ready to move, and our grandma’s house, where we’ve lived the past eight and a half years of caring for her, will soon be sold. Today a team of men tore most of the carpets out to expose the original wood floors underneath (quite lovely, actually), but this necessitated packing up books and decorations, taking pictures off the walls, moving furniture…it is starting to feel real that things are changing, and will never be quite the same again.
I thought something of this as I took down the tree decorations the other night, listening to Peter, Paul, and Mary as we have so many times before, and aching a bit to know this is our last of so many Christmases celebrated in this house, where my mom’s family moved when she was only three years old. An old metallic red ball I took from the drying branches seemed to capture it somehow in its reflection of the Christmas tree. I took a picture, and then a few more.
But Immanuel is still here. His coming, and His being with us, is driven more deeply into my heart, I hope, each Christmas, but His presence does not get packed away with the tangible reminders of the Advent wreath, the crèches, and the beloved Christmas picture books I hardly took a chance to glance at this year.
As we move into a new year promising so much change, He will be our Rock, if we just keep our eyes on Him.
“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal.” ~Isaiah 26:3-4