I bought myself a book yesterday. I was quite pleased with the purchase and eager to mark it as my own. I wrote my name and unexpectedly burst into tears before I could write “my” last name. For the first time it occurred to me that it wasn’t “mine” at all. It belongs to a man my mother married who by no uncertain terms made it clear I was not his.
I had this infusion of anger as I thought of how everything that mattered to me identified me by his name. Right down to my degrees, the pieces of paper that I’ve spent my life chasing, confused me for someone who doesn’t exist, a daughter with his name.
I sat and wallowed for a while then took the book again and where my last name would have been I wrote “CHILD OF GOD“.
I now realize that this is what Christmas means to me. It doesn’t matter that Jesus might not have been born today or that this time has become about whose buying what for whom. It is the day I chose to celebrate that God first showed His interest in adopting me.
He from eternity past perceived that a quirky little girl would go through life feeling like she doesn’t fit anywhere but in the loving arms of her Creator. In His time, He then executed a plan ensuring that that is where I’d forever be found. He sent Jesus..
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERY ONE!! Whatever that might mean to you, it’s a beautiful day to celebrate.