I don’t think any person (who lives in some type of community) is immune to the stresses, fatigue, or challenges of the holiday season. Even when we are grounded in prayer and the beautiful rituals of the Advent season, we still have gifts to buy, meals to cook, gatherings to plan, presents to mail, cards to address. And this list of to-dos doesn’t take in account the deeper burdens many of us currently carry—our own sickness or the sickness of a dear one, grief for the death of a loved one, grief for the separation from a loved one who is still living.
So, if you feel tired for any of these reasons, I say, “Me too” and as a wise professor once told me, “It’s not a you thing, it’s a human thing.”
It’s a human thing. Which is not meant to be derogatory, because in this season we prepare for the shocking event in which God became human. In which God—the Source of all life and love, the Origin of all that is, the One who always has been and always will be—put on flesh. God became a child who resembled a human mother, Mary of Nazareth. He had her hair, her eyes, her tone of skin.
God became human so that in our humanity we could have access to heaven.
God cares about the details of our lives, everything is in God’s gaze. When we remember that and call out to God from that reality, God breathes new life into us and what we do.
As we prepare meals or bake, we can say, “God, bless those who will eat this food. Let it nourish their bodies and spirits.” Amen.
As we address cards to friends and family, we can say, “God, bless this family” as we seal the card. Amen.
As we clean the home or get beds ready for guests, we can say, “God, please bless and protect the person who will rest here.” Amen.
As we donate food or money to those in need, we can say, “God, please bless those who will receive this. Care for them, love them.” Amen.
As we drive to pick up family from the airport, we can pray a decade of the Rosary, entrusting our special time with this loved one to the protection of our Blessed Mother. Amen.
As we struggle with bitterness, grief, or resentments, we can say, “God, soften my heart, help me to trust you in this.” Amen.
When we remember God and ask him to be present with us in the most practical of things, it changes things—beginning with our tired hearts. We begin to understand Emmanuel.