Missing the Magnificence

I married my husband seventeen years ago during a blizzard.  It was beautiful and warm in the church where we were married, but outside, there was a blizzard.  I remember telling one of my bridesmaids that it didn’t matter to me how awful the weather was because in just a few hours, my husband and I were headed to the warm and sunny Caribbean.  We had planned our honeymoon in the remote Marigot Bay.  We opted out of the all-inclusive, touristy part of the Caribbean because who needed things like TV, movies, all the food you can eat, and room service when we had each other…and a hut.

We did reserve a hut.

We caught an early morning flight to the Caribbean, and because of the frigid temperatures when we left, I had on wool pants and a thick sweater.  And I was carrying my purse.  That’s all I had with me.  Because who needed things like books, music, or magazines when we had each other?

And our hut.  We did have a hut.

When we finally landed, I stepped off the plane and gladly welcomed the warmer temperatures.  It didn’t take long, though, to feel uncomfortable in my wool since the temperatures were in the 90’s.  I stood at the carrousel anxiously awaiting my luggage since I bought all sorts of new, cute outfits for our Caribbean vacation.  After several minutes of waiting, it became obvious that our luggage did not follow us to the Caribbean.  We stood in line at baggage claim, and the attendant explained that my suitcase would arrive “sometime soon.”  And that’s when my husband saw his first adult temper-tantrum.  I’m pretty sure he had not seen an adult temper-tantrum, and I’m pretty sure he was nervous that it was happening to his new bride.

I stomped around whining about all the cute clothes I bought that were probably gone forever, and I was dismayed that I didn’t have my hairdryer; I was pretty certain that our hut didn’t come with a hairdryer.

And then I pulled it together.

I decided there was no need to stop by a store near the airport because I was told my luggage would arrive “sometime soon.”

On day three of no luggage, I considered cutting my wool pants.  Instead, I decided to just roll them.  When we went out for a nice meal in the Caribbean, I wore rolled, wool pants.  So, that was cool.  And I struggled to see normally because my contact solution was in my suitcase, along with my hairdryer and my cute clothes, which were all going to arrive “sometime soon.”  So, by day three in remote Marigot Bay, my contacts were stuck to my eyeballs.  Also, super cool.

We attempted to purchase anything we could find, but the closest store was a bait shop which did not sell contact solution. Or shorts. Or hairdryers.  It did, however, sell bait, hooks, and spaghetti noodles.

We discovered that the bait shop sold spaghetti noodles because we had to return to the bait shop to find something to eat for dinner on day three.  Because on day three we ran out of money.  My husband called it a “Murphy’s Law” honeymoon.  And he laughed.

And I cried.  Because this was not how I pictured our romantic getaway.  I pictured cute clothes, not rolled, wool pants.  And I pictured fancy dinners out, not spaghetti noodles and canned sauce.  And I also did not picture myself make-up-less (also in the “coming soon” suitcase) with contacts stuck to my red eyeballs.  So, I cried. And I declared that I just wanted to curl up and watch a movie with my husband…but we couldn’t watch a movie…because we were staying in a romantic, non-touristy HUT.

For the love of huts.   

After our spaghetti dinner that evening, we sat outside, gazing at the beautiful stars, and we talked about what our future would look like as a Mr. and Mrs.  I remember feeling utter peace and joy sitting beside him, and I realized in those moments that my disappointment over the last three days had everything to do with the expectations that I put on our week together, and in doing so, I had completely lost sight of the beauty of where I was and who I was with.  I was so consumed with how I had imagined our trip would go, that I was blinded by my reality. And that reality was so much more significant than the petty annoyances of wool pants and lost hair-dyers that I let cloud my vision of the magnificence of being with the one I love.

Entering into this year’s Christmas season, I was brought back to memories of this trip.  Each year, I place high expectations on what Christmastime will look like and feel like:  all of us getting along with no fighting or arguing, the perfect Christmas presents picked out for every family member, sickness staying at bay, and the Christmas roast cooked to perfection; the best roast anyone has ever tasted…in their entire life…ever.

And I could go on about my Christmas expectations.

The problem is that year after year, I’ve allowed my expectations for the season to utterly cloud my vision of what Christmas is actually about. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a good roast and presents under the tree, but those little blessings are mere side effects of a season in which we have the opportunity to relish in the magnificence of the incarnation.

If our own expectations become the main focus of Christmas, if a successful Holiday equals everything going perfectly, then we’ve opened the door wide to welcome in disappointment and frustration.

 The Word became flesh and dwelt among us…

These words from John 1 are familiar to many, and yet we have too easily forgotten their weight and beauty.  The Word became flesh – God, the infinite, omniscient, creator of the universe became man, while still remaining God.  He dwelt among us – He lived as we live; He felt pain, experienced suffering, shed tears, and was touched by happiness, probably laughing from time to time, all while remaining God.

How can this be?

I don’t know.  Fully understanding the mystery of the incarnation is not something that will happen this side of heaven, but I know it’s true.  I know it happened.  God confined Himself to our time and space in order that we might experience His glory and grace.

Don’t miss the splendor of Christmas by allowing petty annoyances to cloud your vision. Seek to find the peace and joy that comes in seeing more clearly than ever before the awe-filled story told in Scripture, the beauty of the dirty manger where Christ was laid, and the love that was shown to us by our Savior when He became man.    

This is the magnificence of Christmas.