I am not a Grinch nor an Ebeneezer Scrooge, but over the years, Christmas has not been my favorite season. Don’t get me wrong. I rejoice at the celebration of the Incarnation. I marvel at the wonder of worldwide cheerfulness that “the Lord is come.” And I love Christmas music. With the exceptions of Last Christmas and Christmas Shoes, I enjoy everything from Silver Bells to Lo, How a Rose ‘Er Blooming. While Christmas decorations in my house may be more than I appreciate, I smile at all the lights around town and eagerly anticipate storefront windows framed for the season. Still, I am usually happy when all things Christmas come to an end, but not this year.
I don’t know why you read my weekly writings. I appreciate that you do. And today, I hope you’ll suffer a most personal muse.
At Grandma's House
Over the last week, I had the privilege to share Christmas with the whole of the family God has given to Brenda and me. That’s a first for us, not likely to be repeated anytime in the near future. The time had to come to an end because seasons change, and our children have formed their own families as God has designed. Those new families create their own traditions as the former ones fade. New joys replace the old. Fresh giggles rise where previous ones were heard. New memories take shape as past ones disappear.
So, I shared with my bride turned mother and now grandmother, the joys of the season with our children and grandchildren. Every night of the last week, Brenda and I kissed and hugged them all as they loaded into their minivans and car seats. Back inside, we put ourselves to the work to ready for the next day. We washed the mound of dishes and pans stacked on the counters and in the sink. We emptied overflowing garbage cans, swept and vacuumed crumb laden floors, and stored so many of grandma’s toys so when the grands made their next day’s entrance, they could pour them out again for another day of play. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
The dining room table can’t hold us all, so we add another table that drapes into the kitchen. Of course, there is a kids’ table in the kitchen too. The space fills quickly. We linger long over gourmet dinners Brenda has been planning for months. We moan after the last bite, "I ate too much," and then eat more at the next feast. The littles leave their miniature chairs now covered with most of their food to head to parts unknown to discover something new in grandma’s toy chest. The parents and spouses stay near each other, laughing, reminiscing, and making new memories, multiple conversations happening simultaneously. I don’t say much. Hearing all their voices and watching their happy faces is far better than anything I might contribute.
In the Lord's House
We gathered on the Lord’s Day, all of us in one place singing enthusiastically of the Savior each of us loves, praying confidently to our Father who hears us, and receiving with gladness the Word preached to us. Early on in our marriage, Brenda and I pledged to each other to raise a Christian family as God gave us grace. As we age, we long for generational Christianity. Though the third generation is young, and its future not yet written, the second generation is positioned for a life of faithfulness to our Lord. When John writes, “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth,” I know exactly what he means (3 John 2). I say none of this to boast of the skills Brenda and I exercised in our parenting but only to boast in Christ, who in His life and death and in the sovereignty of His resurrection, has brought us all together.
Sage Words
As we anticipate another grandchild in the next few weeks and the prospect of more to come, I’ve meditated on Proverbs 17:6, “Grandchildren are the crown of old men, and the beauty of sons is their fathers.” Matthew Henry offers wonderful thoughts on the maxim.
They are so, that is, they should be so, and, if they conduct themselves worthily, they are so. (1). It is an honour to parents when they are old to leave children, and children's children, growing up, that tread in the steps of their virtues, and are likely to maintain and advance the reputation of their families. It is an honour to a man to live so long as to see his children's children (Ps 128:6; Gen 50:23), to see his house built up in them, and to see them likely to serve their generation according to the will of God. This crowns and completes their comfort in this world. (2). It is an honour to children to have wise and godly parents, and to have them continued to them even after they have themselves grown up and settled in the world. Those are unnatural children who reckon their aged parents a burden to them, and think they live too long; whereas, if the children be wise and good, it is as much their honour as can be that thereby they are comforts to their parents in the unpleasant days of their old age.
Whether or not I experience again a Christmas like the most recent, I do not know. What I do know is the Lord gave to me a wonderful gift as we celebrated His indescribable gift (2 Corinthians 9:15).
God Be with You Till We Meet Again - Jeremiah Eames Rankin (1828-1904)
God be with you till we meet again;
loving counsels guide, uphold you,
may the Shepherd’s care enfold you;
God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again;
unseen wings, protecting, hide you,
daily manna still provide you;
God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again;
when life’s perils thick confound you,
put unfailing arms around you;
God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again;
keep love’s banner floating o’er you,
smite death’s threat’ning wave before you;
God be with you till we meet again.
As always, thanks for reading, and I welcome your feedback and any suggestions you might have for an upcoming Lunchtime Musing.