Never Alone

In just two days we celebrate Christmas. Before I chose to believe that Jesus was the only way to the Father, the only way to freedom and salvation and redemption and restored relationship, Christmas was a lovely time of homemade cookies, handmade stockings hanging over the fireplace, our traditional Christmas tape (now burned onto a CD) that my dad mixed many years ago, German Apple Pancakes in the morning, ripping open of presents. Come on, it's the best time of year. It's the best day. After I decided to believe in Jesus and call myself a Christian, Christmas actually continued just about the same, though I now recognize the gospel truth being sung out through many carols (how could I have missed that message all those years?) I can't say that I spend lots of time preparing my heart during advent or that I meditate for hours on his birth and what His coming to earth really means. I am one of those who LOVES the American tradition of Christmas and all that it entails. Neighbors exchanging baked goodies, Charlie Brown's Christmas, all the colorful wrapping paper and bows... I LOVE it!
This year, however, is a little different for me.
I'm not at home. It's my first Christmas without my family. I've never missed a Christmas. I thought that I would be okay with it. I mean, we celebrated it early since my brother and his fiancé, Stacy, were going to spend Christmas in Connecticut with her family and my little nephew, Gabriel, was going to spend it with his mom. And, I was leaving for Colorado. It all seemed okay. Then I got here and found out that Gabriel had to leave his mom's and come back to his daddy's. They couldn't afford to buy him a ticket to Connecticut, too, so they had to postpone their trip. They're all there, right now, at my mom's having Christmas parties, baking cookies, singing carols, hanging out the stockings, wrapping presents. And here I am, in a new city, watching the snow fall down, sick with a cold and spending endless hours with my roommate's Siamese cat Puss Puss Elvis while my roommate is at work. I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself, but it's not working.
This is when it hits me that maybe this Christmas can really be about Jesus. Even though I'm sort of at odds with Him at the moment as I question His motives for moving me out here, I can't help but feel inexplicably drawn to be nearer to Him than ever before. Loneliness has a way of doing that. As I watch out the window at the snow falling, I also catch glimpses of homeless men making their lonely tracks along broken sidewalks. I don't have any words of wisdom to write. I just feel sad as I watch them. I shoot up a prayer of thanks to God that I can be inside with a heater on on such a cold day. I think about God and kind of end there. I don't have all the answers. But, because Jesus came to earth, I can have Him. Not in the flesh. Not to be able to hug and smile at and crack a joke with, but I can have His presence because He promised it to anyone who would believe in Him. And, that warm relationship is just about all I want right now. I want that sense of family. The homeless men probably want that, too. Jesus was born all those years ago just so we wouldn't have to be completely alone, whether we have people around or not.
So, this Christmas, it's just me and Jesus. And Puss Puss Elvis.