May all your kids come home, and may they get along with each other. Or at least fake it.
May you have a white Christmas to the point that you feel Christmas-y and can say no to an activity you didn’t really want to go to, but don’t lose electricity and heat. May everyone wipe their boots.
May your relatives all be healthy, well-behaved, attractive, and making wise choices.
May those who receive your gifts love and exclaim over every one. May they all arrive on time, with no return policy or (lost) receipt necessary. May the person hardest to buy for truly appreciate your efforts.
May your children pause over each gift and appreciate it, unconsumed by greed. May they somehow avoid a sugar high. May they entertain themselves gloriously and without screens, and after weeks of no cabin fever, may they be delighted to return to school.
May the pastor’s sermon be entertaining and just the right length. May the music be the right volume, the singers on key.
May you have just enough time alone, and just enough time with the people you love. May no one talk too much, and may everyone listen and respond with warm graciousness.
May your mother-in-law be particularly kind and gracious. May your teenager throw his or her arms around your neck and thank you for all you continually invest in his or her life. May your toddler take a nap despite the family noise, and sleep through the night.
May your turkey or ham be unburned and still done in the middle. May your mashed potatoes be perfectly creamy. May your family say “thank you” after the meal, and stick around to chat about something other than partisan politics.
May your spouse say nothing tacky or embarrassing, and may you have time to cuddle without one of you getting too hot.
May he or she read your mind about something important which you have yet to know how to ask for.
May you not have a flat tire in an ice storm. May no one argue in the car.
May you have an opportunity to serve that makes you feel wonderful inside and doesn’t interfere with your own holiday happiness.
May your child’s Christmas program be just long enough that you can get great pictures without his finger in his nose or her pulling up her dress, but short enough to be enjoyable. May everyone you invited show up on time.
May that string of Christmas lights suddenly turn on and remain untangled.
May your soul glow and that one thing you’ve been waiting for come to pass.
May you snag a nap on Christmas Day, and may everyone help clean up the kitchen. May there be enough hot water for all of your guests. May your wi-fi remain robust and seamless.
But if not:
May you welcome the gifts of patience, perspective, and enduring love. May you and those you love receive the gifts and circumstances God deems best.
May you laugh at all the foibles and mishaps that come from living on this messy planet where God chose to come anyway.
May you be eclipsed by peace you can’t understand as you trust in the baby who would be hunted by a King, the child and his teenaged parents forced into sudden exile. May God’s perfect timing reverberate through your life and culminate in heaven.
May you sense affection and intense dedication to those around you, despite their weakness and your own.
May a sense of soul-anchoring joy swallow you even as happiness drifts away.
May simplicity and imperfection galvanize you in unwavering strength and beauty.
May your service to others, even as it demands large chunks of your heart and body and time and resources, be a sweet aroma to God. (In this season, we remember he understands.)
May your mess–like a barn-turned-delivery-room–be made suddenly beautiful and pulsing with overwhelming love.
May you wisely seek him, even over long distances and rough terrain.
May God-with-us burrow into your loneliness.
May God show himself in the unexpected and lowly.
May carrying others’ grief allow you to walk a little closer to the one who bore our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4).
May a soul-level hope and trust surpass your circumstances. And may it transport you into a sense of God’s presence and love, lasting until your next imperfect December 25.
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