Birthday Gifts for Jesus

“Does Jesus want dolls for his birthday?” asked my four year old, clutching her Frozen Elsa doll, which used to sing (loudly) several bars of “Let It Be,” until the batteries died. Ever since she finally grasped that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, she has been working hard to settle the most important birthday matter: What gifts does he want?

“No, sweetheart. Jesus doesn’t want dolls.”

She looked down at Elsa. “All people loves dolls,” she said, unconvinced. She turned toward our Christmas tree, and I could see her wondering how she could set Elsa on the tree as an ornament.

My husband chimed in from the kitchen. “Jesus wants you and your sisters to do what Mommy and Daddy tell you to do.”

“That’s right. And He loves to have you sing to him,” I added in a flash of inspiration.

“Yes, you’re going to sing all your songs nicely at the Christmas Eve service,” said my husband, coming into the living room. “And you’re not going to do what?”

She looked at him blankly.

“Remember, sweetheart?” He put a hand on her shoulder, clad in a bright blue Elsa sweatshirt. “You’re not going to dance up there, right?”

When she was out of earshot, my husband told me that she had danced her way through the last practice for the Christmas Eve service.

“I keep telling her over and over again, no dancing. It’s like she can’t help herself.”

“Oh, boy.” I sighed. “Are we going to have a repeat of last year?” The previous Christmas Eve, my middle daughter, then three, performed a spirited Riverdance throughout the entire service, with footwork that would have given Michael Flatley a run for his money. Meanwhile, her older sister, then four, sobbed through every song. I kept scooting up to the front pew and motioning for her to come sit beside me. Each time, she stoically shook her head “No,” and stayed put, mouthing a few words between sobs.

My oldest now is a pro at singing in church. Her Christmas program at her “school church” as all three girls call it, went flawlessly.

She all set for this service, too.

And her younger sister is the wild card.

I hope she doesn’t dance. At least, not as energetically as last year. I also hope that I don’t spend the whole service fixated on whatever the sweet girl is or is not doing up there.

I’d like to give Jesus a present, too. He hasn’t asked me to sing for him. At least, not up in the front of church, or in the choir balcony, as my husband will do. What has He asked of me?

In between Amazon searches, trips to actual stores, sending out Christmas letters,

Christmas tree cutting,

Christmas tree trimming,

Christmas cookie baking (okay, so my talented baker-husband did that!)

and caring for sick kids, I actually gave this question a moment or two of reflection. What does Jesus want from me? And I must admit that I felt…a twinge of irritation. Everyone needs so many things from me at this time of year. Now Jesus wants something, too?

He doesn’t want anything that will involve money, though, or running around here and there. What He wants is my stillness. He wants to be able to speak to me, even sing to me…to reach for me through His Word, and find me listening.

It’s not been an easy past two months as we’ve dealt with multiple illnesses in addition to the Christmas preparation. My normal routine has been upended. God knows about the difficulty. He’s fully aware of the challenges that keep me from being “tuned in,” even while reading our devotions at night, or sitting right there in the pew.

Several Sundays ago, I was easing into a back pew with my husband and the girls shortly before the service was about to start. In the pew ahead was a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile…I’ve been scarce around church these days thanks to the illnesses. I chatted for a moment, then suddenly felt the need to quiet myself. On the back of my bulletin, I wrote three words: “Still. Quiet. Listening.”

It was okay if I didn’t get to catch up with every friend. It was okay if I ignored the girls’ whispers and messiness with their baggies of goldfish. (Here I have to say that my husband is awesome with our girls during church, not only in teaching them how to behave, but volunteering to take them out if they’re not.) It was okay, more than okay, to stop thinking about what we were going to have for lunch since I’d forgotten to pick up lunchmeat earlier.

What God most wanted from me was exactly what I most needed. Stillness amid the constant motion. A quieted mind. A listening heart. A readiness…readiness to hear Him speak.

And now it is Christmas Eve. He wants to speak to me, to tell me that He came to Earth  for me. He wants to tell me that He loved me even while I was a sinner. He wants to reassure me He paid for my sins, and I’m his daughter now. And though that doesn’t instantly make everything easy, He will take me one day to my beautiful true home without sickness or frustrations or even any distractions from Himself.

The gift that He wants now is the one He Himself enables me to give…this readiness to hear, this quieted mind, this stillness.

Yes, Jesus, speak. I am listening.