I think this is my favorite time of December, these last few days before Christmas.
Granted, they are usually crazy-busy with last-minute shopping (what the heck do I get my dad? A Walmart gift card?) and cleaning (I think the last time I dusted was 2010) and finishing work for the year (year-end giving is as predictable as my ability to ice skate again), but I feel like we are slowly easing into a day of bliss.
A day of pajamas and fudge and movies.
A day of rest.
SIDE NOTE: If you are reading this and are silently hating my guts because you currently have a dozen children, all of which are running around in varying degrees of nudity, or have to somehow wrangle your children so they can board a plane and fly across the country so you can eat three different kinds of jello salad, or you have a house that is so dirty that it would look better as a meth lab, please know this:
I am single and do not have children.
I only have one nephew who is now old enough to boss me around.
I am not traveling for Christmas nor is anyone visiting us (Hint, hint, Oklahoma family).
All of these things greatly contribute to a day in which I am the master of my own schedule. Little do you realize that I look forward to the day when I can embrace some of your chaos. But in the meantime, I will be praying for you and that all of you come out of this holiday season alive.
Besides, with only one good elbow, my activity options are limited to working the remote and snacking.
But something happens to me on December 20 that causes me to breathe deep. I feel a stillness, a sense of calm, which defies reason since apparently the world is ending tomorrow.
(In which case, can I get a "Hallelujah!")
It has taken four weeks, but I think all of the chaos has fallen away and the expectation of what is to come has settled in.
Advent has finally arrived.
And I welcome it with my whole heart.