‘Tis the season

1F944309-8AAE-4DB9-98FC-DEBDB0ACB7F1Christmas songs are floating around the room. I keep realigning my thoughts. Focus. Look at the joy. Jingle bells and twinkling lights. Cast your cares. I hang the stockings. Feel this. Let go of the rest of the world. Little Drummer Boy begins. My mind feels like it’s being torn in ten directions.
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I have no gift to bring. Pa rum pum pum pum.
That’s fit to give the King. Pa rum pum pum pum.
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I’m being rapidly consumed by worries that come brandishing my name and the worries of every face that streams into my mind and weighs heavily on my chest.
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All of the concern and empathy of a heart that is easily opened can swiftly take a hard right into a sea of panic. I can feel the tension flow from cluttered mind to hurried lungs. My hands are tightening. I realize that I have allowed my thoughts to enter a storm. I have allowed the wrong power to stand at the helm.
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I can’t take this on. My arms can’t hold the worries of the world. I was never meant to. I wasn’t built for it. Neither were you.
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I hang the advent calendar. Each day is a felt window, a tiny shutter only meant only to allow a small square view of the larger picture. We will unfold it one day at a time. And with each new opening we are one day closer to celebration.
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Tis is the season.
The season for remembering that this life is lived one opening window at a time. Each day is an unfolding of the panorama. I am not meant to run ahead flinging open shutter after shutter in rapid succession. I am not meant to worry about what I’ll see when the next day reveals itself. I just open today’s little box. I let the light pour in… I look out at what my eyes can reach and don’t worry about what lies just out of view.
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One little frame a day is how time will be carried. And I don’t need more than that.
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Because this is the season to remember that I wasn’t sent to save the world.
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I played my drum for Him. Pa rum pum pum pum. I played my best for Him. Pa rum pum pum pum. Then He smiled at me…