How Was Your Christmas?

We were in Iowa last week, staying at my parents' along with the Canada crew and their 4 kids.  We had our week all planned out with various outings and special gatherings.

During the night last Saturday, little Silas got sick.  He vomited in the night and had some diarrhea... not what any mommy hopes for, but he seemed to be over the worst of it in about a day.  We bleached toys and washed hands and hoped...

We cancelled our visit with Grandma Vaupel, so as not to expose her to anything.

On Christmas Eve morning, Kate got sick.  Krista and I were responsible for our special dinner that night (walking tacos), and I was just finishing the taco meat when I picked up Victor.  He had told Grammy that something hurt... and then he puked up the total contents of his lunch all over us. 

We showered, put on fuzzy pajamas, and started watching our singing children video, and he puked again.  So we changed pajamas again.  Then he puked again.  And again.  He would cry and say, "No thank you, no thank you!" and try to avoid the bucket.  We gave up trying to change pajamas and put a t-shirt over his pjs to try to keep most of it off him.  He fell asleep, exhausted, on my lap, but kept throwing up every 15 min, even in his sleep.  We gave up on the bucket and just tried to wipe it off with a towel. 

I decided to put him down in his pack-n-play and see if he'd be able to sleep more deeply and stop vomiting, but he still heaved regularly, writhing around and choking up spit and bile.  I tried to swab out his mouth so he wouldn't swallow it back.

It was a wretched night, the vomit unrelenting. 

The night crawled on into the wee hours.  After another bout, I held his little sleeping form while baby brother kicked my belly underneath.  It was quiet and lonely, not the Christmas Eve of family game-playing and treats we had planned.

It struck me that this was probably much closer to the experience of that first Christmas, the night when Jesus came. 

As far as we know, Mary was alone in the dark, concerned for her baby, far away from family, without even the rudimentary comforts of home.  Smelly, bloody, dirty, dark.  Not where she probably expected to deliver her son.  Not what she would have hoped for, probably even prayed for.  Not enjoying the sweet support of family and rejoicing with neighbors.  Not at home in her own surroundings, with privacy and help and good care.

Yet she received it, the whole package appointed to her: "Behold the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word." 

That introduction into this dark, broken, hurting world set the stage for her Son's whole life.  He was not handsome and popular.  Did not have a bed to call His own.  Was continually misunderstood and misused.  He was targeted for death in early childhood, assumed to be an outcast of God, and deserted by His own friends.  He wept and prayed in a garden that God might open another way.  But He went on to the crowning achievement of His life--His very purpose in coming--to die by shameful, ugly, hateful, unjust execution.  A day when everything seemed to go so wrong that nothing in the universe could set it right.

And there under the surface, where mortals couldn't yet glimpse, God accomplished the most glorious, hope-filling, joy-exploding, life-transforming miracle history could ever hold.  He cancelled the power of sin and death.  He made Jesus to be our peace.  He made His own life a payment for our sin and gave His perfect record to us before God.  He bought favor and only good for all those who turn to Him.

The rest of our story:

Victor threw up 20-30 times that night (I lost count).  I caught the bug on Christmas morning and ended up in the ER to get fluids for dehydration.  All 11 occupants of our house were hit by the virus, and we needed to cancel everything--the big family Christmas gift opening, Mom's amazing ham ball dinner, the mother-daughter girls' outing, the catered meal to celebrate our parents' 40th wedding anniversary.  Round 2 (or some kind of relapse) hit Ezra, Janessa, and Victor with more vomiting at the end of the week.

But how was our Christmas?

Really, when we put it in the big picture, it was wonderful.  As wonderful as the grace that Jesus bought for us when He entered this broken world to set it right forever.