Home for Christmas--a Reflection
The passage of time seems marked sometimes by reoccurring events in my life: standing on the pier at Holland MI, for example, I’ve often reflected on the years that have passed, and how once again I find myself staring out upon the perpetual water and sky—a view relatively unchanging from year to year, but me, a different person. That moment in time, although it may seem much like one a year or two earlier, is unique and completely irreproducible, for time is fleeting: there is only now and then now becomes then. But Annie Dillard and Virginia Woolfe write much more eloquently of time than I, so for the moment I will leave such pondering to them.
The reason that I think of the passage of time in such a manner is because I once again find myself at home for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I sat in the pew at the Methodist church, listening to the music of the organ and then the choral processional of “There’s a Song in the Air,” and I thought to myself, “How many years have I sat in this place and listened to the strains of this songs slowly move up the aisle?” Nearly twenty-five times, I guess, for I can’t remember missing a Christmas here. Some things in life don’t seem to change much, and I’m thankful for that: I enjoy good traditions.
And yet despite the fact that these traditions are kept the same from year to year, much has changed. There are new faces in the choir and others absent. Grandpa no longer joins us on the pew. This year I sat by my future sister-in-law. We’ve all grown older of course, some taller, grayer, or heavier. But what about the changes inside? For though I return to Bluffton, Indiana for Christmas every year, I am not the same person. And why should people assume that I am? True I don’t have a boyfriend or husband at my side or a child in my arms; my hair is still blond; I haven’t gained much weight, and I haven’t added any unusual piercing or tattoo, but the changes inside, forged through the experiences of the past five years, are far greater and more significant than any observable on first glance. They’re also the ones that are sometimes difficult to explain, especially to someone who doesn’t know me well or wants merely a quick update on my life. Alas, my career path is a bit complicated; I’m not engaged; I’m not really settling down anywhere right now. Where am I living? Well, this month in Costa Rica, Honduras, the U.S., and Argentina. For whom do I work? Jesus Christ. Ah, but what have I learned over the past five years? Well, where do I start?
I have learned a lot about God’s faithfulness; about having courage and seizing opportunities; about adapting to different cultures and relating to people of varied backgrounds and world views. I’ve become conversational in a second language, gown professionally as a teacher of English and language arts, developed leadership and ministry skills, gained friends around the globe, and accomplished things—such as running a full marathon—that at one time seemed beyond my reach. And the journey continues…Each moment in time is a new one; though I may occasionally wish I could recapture the past or hold on to the present, I will go forward, learning, growing, changing, trying to follow hard after God.
As I sat in the Methodist Church this Christmas Eve, I reflected on the past year and wondered a bit about the future. Last year at this time, I couldn’t have seen ahead to Costa Rica and Argentina and the language study and ministry that I am now doing. What will the next year hold? Next Christmas where will I be living? Where will I be working? Who will be in my life? Lord, you hold the plans for my life securely in your hands. Because of your love, I trust these plans are for my good and I give you the future.
The reason that I think of the passage of time in such a manner is because I once again find myself at home for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I sat in the pew at the Methodist church, listening to the music of the organ and then the choral processional of “There’s a Song in the Air,” and I thought to myself, “How many years have I sat in this place and listened to the strains of this songs slowly move up the aisle?” Nearly twenty-five times, I guess, for I can’t remember missing a Christmas here. Some things in life don’t seem to change much, and I’m thankful for that: I enjoy good traditions.
And yet despite the fact that these traditions are kept the same from year to year, much has changed. There are new faces in the choir and others absent. Grandpa no longer joins us on the pew. This year I sat by my future sister-in-law. We’ve all grown older of course, some taller, grayer, or heavier. But what about the changes inside? For though I return to Bluffton, Indiana for Christmas every year, I am not the same person. And why should people assume that I am? True I don’t have a boyfriend or husband at my side or a child in my arms; my hair is still blond; I haven’t gained much weight, and I haven’t added any unusual piercing or tattoo, but the changes inside, forged through the experiences of the past five years, are far greater and more significant than any observable on first glance. They’re also the ones that are sometimes difficult to explain, especially to someone who doesn’t know me well or wants merely a quick update on my life. Alas, my career path is a bit complicated; I’m not engaged; I’m not really settling down anywhere right now. Where am I living? Well, this month in Costa Rica, Honduras, the U.S., and Argentina. For whom do I work? Jesus Christ. Ah, but what have I learned over the past five years? Well, where do I start?
I have learned a lot about God’s faithfulness; about having courage and seizing opportunities; about adapting to different cultures and relating to people of varied backgrounds and world views. I’ve become conversational in a second language, gown professionally as a teacher of English and language arts, developed leadership and ministry skills, gained friends around the globe, and accomplished things—such as running a full marathon—that at one time seemed beyond my reach. And the journey continues…Each moment in time is a new one; though I may occasionally wish I could recapture the past or hold on to the present, I will go forward, learning, growing, changing, trying to follow hard after God.
As I sat in the Methodist Church this Christmas Eve, I reflected on the past year and wondered a bit about the future. Last year at this time, I couldn’t have seen ahead to Costa Rica and Argentina and the language study and ministry that I am now doing. What will the next year hold? Next Christmas where will I be living? Where will I be working? Who will be in my life? Lord, you hold the plans for my life securely in your hands. Because of your love, I trust these plans are for my good and I give you the future.
2008 Almdale Family Christmas pic
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