Holey Heart

A Christmas Reflection

I wrote this Christmas Day.

It is quiet in my house this Christmas afternoon. The kids just left with their dad for celebrations at his house, and a blessed stillness settles over my home, a very welcome change of pace after a week of to-do lists that were far too long. My to-do list today is simple: take a shower; drive to my parents’ for turkey dinner and grown up gifts; spend the evening in my fella’s company.

In front of me is the nativity crèche. I set it up just a few days ago, the last of my holiday decorating. As I contemplate the baby Jesus in the manger, it strikes me that the quiet in my home is not one of emptiness but of fullness. It strikes me that the brokenness of my family has given my children an even bigger family with more love (and presents!) than they had six years ago. It strikes me that in my single state, I am less alone than ever. The God in the manger is a God of great paradox, and He has blessed me with the grace to see and appreciate this mystery in my own life.

I went to Mass twice last night – once with the kids and later at Midnight to sing with a small candlelight gathering of night owls. I heard the scriptures proclaimed twice. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, and it shines from a small crèche in my family room. He came to fill every emptiness in my holey heart. He came to be the glue holding every crack together. In fulfilling ancient prophecies, He offers me fulfillment as well.

Yesterday afternoon I was in darkness. I had a panic attack in the morning. I get them on occasion; they seem to be triggered primarily by hormones in combination with stress or feelings of insecurity. Yesterday’s was brought on by a to-do list and the dark side of my perfectionism at choir practice. I went to my walk-in closet and cried out to the Savior whose birthday I was celebrating, “I can’t do this alone!” And he reminded me that his name is Emmanuel, God With Us. I felt his presence for the rest of the day as my anxiety slowly subsided. Jesus is real and I know because I felt his love.

In the second reading last night, Paul said, “The grace of God has appeared, saving ALL and TRAINING US to reject godless ways and worldly desires.” That word training really jumped out at me. This whole business of being a Christian is not just a one time decision followed by a lifetime of perfect love and peace. It requires practice and training. As an amateur musician, I am astounded by my church’s music ministry leaders, especially at the Christmas services. Our main cantor is a well oiled machine, not only because she has natural talent, but because she trains and practices. I know from personal experience it is much easier to face the inevitable nervousness of singing behind the mic at church when I’ve practiced a lot. The familiarity of discipline takes over and carries me in spite of my feelings. That happened for me last night.

That same process is how being a believer works. God could have atoned for our sins the moment he was born. He could have perished when Herod had all the male babies killed; his death was all that was required to settle the score. But God willed that His son live long enough to teach us a few things, to “train” us to be eager to do what is good. Atonement was only one part of Christ’s mission. He came to show us the actions we would need to take so that we could have life and have it in abundance, not just in eternity, but in the present moment.

That is the Christmas gift that keeps on giving. Like most training, it is not always fun. It pushes me outside my comfort zone. Sometimes it pushes me beyond my abilities. My voice cracks on the high notes. I need to remember that if we could do something perfect the first time without training, we wouldn’t need practice, whether it’s singing or loving.

Christ would rather I love poorly than not at all.

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