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Everyone always asks me why Christmas is my favorite. I got married in December and it was one big Christmas party. My first date with Jon was to a gingerbread house festival. My daughter is due Christmas Eve. I consider it an accomplishment if I make it until November to begin listening to Christmas music.

And it's true, I do love Christmas. (although a Christmas wedding was the easiest and cheapest way to do a wedding. I'm serious. We saved loads on everything from venue to decorations.) (and also it's not like we PLANNED to have a baby due on Christmas Eve?!??) (Jon and my first date was to a gingerbread house festival because it was free #iamcheap)

I, like many, am drawn to the lights and the decorations. The baking in and of itself is enough to make me Christmas's biggest fan.

And I know it is cliché to say that this Word made flesh, this transcendent holy baby is the root of my delight, I find myself drawing new, rich truths each Advent that keep me coming back for more. I revel in this period of waiting, of daily readings, of contemplating the wholly devastating affects of our sin and the great lengths our Father went to still redeem. I just finished Hosea [wrecked] and am ready for Christ's advent to wash over the chapped parts of my heart like a fresh balm. This God who has always been other, far apart, removed, separate. Now He is here, held by our sinful hands in the utmost of vulnerability. Mary was not worthy to hold this Son of hers, and we are not worthy to hold Him in our hearts. Why is He here? Why would He come? We are so unworthy.

Pondering Advent fills my soul unlike anything else.

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