Side by Side

​I was laughing while going through pictures because I found these two side by side. Side by side exactly. 

One I took because everything I loved was crammed into one vehicle, each of us clutching something we cherished – favorite doll, an intriguing book. We sang the same songs and leaned into one another and kept our eyes on the road. The other I took because the car had gotten too loud, we were fighting over what we held dear, seventy-five percent of the conversation had turned to denying farts, and our eyes were no longer on the road but were instead on the faults of the other.  Christmas is complicated. My mom said that recently. On one hand, the music is familiar, the smells are sweet, the ornaments are sentimental, the snow sparkles, the air is crisp and easier to breathe, the presents are piled high under the tree. On the other hand, we can't turn back time as much as we wish to, we can't make gifts from nothing, we can't wish people different, we can't strong-arm good into triumphing over evil.  Side by side (side by side exactly) with goodwill and nostalgia is an ache we can't seem to ignore.  Christmas is complicated.  But Jesus, wrapped in our injured flesh, born to poor parents on the run, with nowhere to even lay tells us where He dwells. It is with the sick and the hurting and the confused and the oppressed and the hungry and the broken hearted. He is in those we love. He is in those we wish we loved. He is in every trial, every rejection, every longing.  So I think it's ok that Christmas is complicated because it just means Jesus is near. Christmas is glorious. Christmas is painful. And in every instance God is, if not complicated, certainly Sovereign. God has come to me. Will I come to Him?