Christmas Present

I've had an extraordinary week. It feels a bit unusual for me to have something so big to swallow that it takes a week, if that makes any sense, but this week took that long to digest. Or the happening took that long to happen.

Lest I sound completely batty, let me start again.

Christmas Eve is an extremely holy moment for me. I believe God has given me this special gift, like a loving Father who gives his little daughter who doesn't ask for much the thing that will make me glow. It's the Redemption of my life, really. To explain all that I'd have to explain the whole path of my Christian conversion, which I probably will at some point, but not right now.

I really, really want to meet God in my heart each Christmas Eve, and so God generally works it out for me. This year, I read our Jesse tree reading in the evening, the same reading that I memorized and recited for years as a child in our Christmas Eve Sunday School program: Luke 2. I was struck by how, when the shepherds heard the message from heaven, there was no question of whether they believed it was true. They had just seen angels -- of course it was true! They just said "Let's go to Bethlehem and see it!" The real God! Let's go see!

That was still burning in my heart when I arrived at Mass. I've been a stickler about finding a Midnight Mass each year, as a Midnight Mass was climactic in my conversion experience. So, this year our parish had a 10:30 Mass. It was still the Mass of midnight, so I sucked up my stickels, and at my pastor's suggestion I helped the evening's makeshift choir carol.

I sang my little lungs out. I felt a bit like the little drummer boy; I was the little singing girl. I don't have much to offer, but sing I could, and I probably looked like a fool, but I felt somehow I wanted to gift God and my brothers and sisters there present and not present with singing with all my might.

The readings and prayers are more piercing each year. I can feel these words in my bones: "The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light.... every boot that tramped in battle, every cloak rolled in blood, will be burned as fuel for flames." I have walked in darkness. My boots tramped in battle against the Lord's peace. But the thoughts of these now only fuel the flames of my love for God.

Somehow, in the midst of this liturgy, I had a very, very clear glimpse (intellectual? spiritual?) of Mary. What I mean is, I suddenly realized that any looking upon her as anything less than the exemplar of holiness to which I am called is to diminish her. I can't just admire a beautiful saint as I would a nice work of art. She's not like a movie star, someone whose life is to be external to mine. And realized there is no expression of love for her that could ever be excessive, because human love for the work of God never fulfills the infinite level of indebtedness and awe and marvel due Him. All we can do is give all that we are. It is enough for us, never for Him.

I recall feeling on the way home that I was going to need something to tack me back to earth, lest I float away with the giddiness of these gifts.

I needn't have worried.

We had a beautiful Christmas day. It was a warm, loving family day. This also is Redemption. But, despite my plans of celebrating the 12 days of Christmas, as the week wore on I found myself yelling, arguing, vexed, and agitated. My son and I butted heads and lots of cross words were exchanged. I felt myself dragging through the mud. It was yucky.

Slowly, I remembered my thought on the way home from Mass. "I need something to tack me back on earth." I said it yesterday. I said it today at Mass, but I stopped quickly. "I need." Yes, that is exactly it, isn't it. I need. I desperately need God for my every breath, for every millisecond where I relate to another person, for my every thought, movement, responsibility, initiative. I am completely, totally, abjectly dependent on God. I am called to be like Mary, to union with the Trinity, but for this (I don't say for this too, because "this" equals all the rest I just litanied) I am dependent on God.

This also is Redemption.