The first holiday I spent alone sucked. It was Easter, during college – I can’t even remember why I couldn’t go home, I just knew I couldn’t wait for the day to pass.
A local friend invited me to her home. It was a nice gesture, we ate lots of ham and to spice it up, her mom tried really hard to argue with her dad, but he didn’t bite. He spewed peace from his pores. The tension was interesting enough to keep me from feeling sorry for myself for a few hours.
When I got back to my dorm room I lost myself in a book. I crawled into that historical novel like marshmallows in a peep.
I don’t even remember if I thanked Jesus for The Cross.
If I had given Him my day, I would have seen that Easter was not about me.
I imagine the shepherds felt much the same. In biblical days, they often didn’t have families to miss because their lifestyle didn’t make room for them. They lived in pastures and caves, watching the stars twinkle in the lonesome nights.
How would it be to have a family of wool without the ability to say, “Good Morning”, and “I love you?”
At least they could keep their shepherds warm.
Maybe that’s why the angels appeared to them. Their ears would be ready to listen, their voices aching to proclaim miracles.
Christmas is the whole story…families, singles, the creatures that silently walk with us.
But most of all, there’s no exclusion…everyone is invited to celebrate with Jesus.
The ideal place to be is right where you are.