My Christmas miracle came early.  And that’s what I’m making room for: the possibility of miracles.

Sometimes, I’m so HUMAN in my expectations.  It has to be now and in front of my face and tangible.  If I can’t see it coming, the miracle can’t exist.  Being human is wonderful and beautiful and full of new and exciting possibilities . . . but it’s limited.  Our understanding is so imperfect, so ridiculously small.  Why, in my right mind, do I insist that the world conforms to my minuscule understanding of the universe it fits into?

I don’t know.

But I’m here to say, definitively, that the universe is BIG.  It’s huge and so far beyond my understanding.  I don’t care if, one day, every miracle is explicable, even re-creatable.  I don’t care if it’s wonderless and a series of equations that will always be too complicated for me to process.  I don’t care if the incomprehensible power of the human intellect is realized tomorrow and the coming end of the world has nothing to do with it’s destruction, but everything to do with a perfect discovery and lack of mystery in the world.


Because they will still be miracles.  And today is still full of them.  Because of that, I finally feel Christmas this season.  I’ve been struggling to capture the wonder and sacrifice and people and forgiveness and stories of the season.  I have been struggling to find Christ in my Christmas for whatever reason.  I don’t know why–though I have suspicions that my stress level has been part of it–I haven’t been able to feel the spirit of this holiday until now.

Then something happened.  Something I never expected.  A miracle came to my life five days before the holiday I JUST COULD NOT make myself understand this year.  It’s a miracle that it happened, it’s a miracle that it came, it’s a miracle that I saw it, it’s a miracle that I got what I needed to be able to feel the magic of the season.

Today, I must make room for the possibility of miracles because I would be intensely ungrateful to the Savior who provides them and the people who enact them on the inspiration of a loving God and His son.  These manifestations of perfect godly and beautifully human love are so real–more so because they are intangible and inexplicable.  I don’t why the timing was such that it happened today instead of the hours of opportunity that were had yesterday.  I don’t know why I had to wait a long month to feel the Christmas season in this way.  But the timing was perfect, as it always is in God’s hands, and the feeling is just as real, late as it is.

Christmas is here!  It made it to my heart and home before it was too late!  It touched one or two hurting hearts and made something joyful out of them.  It was beautiful and new as it is every year.  Christmas, that wonderful beautiful celebration of the babe in Bethlehem, is not just here and not just mine, but everywhere and everyone’s.

And that, in and of itself, is it’s own kind of miracle.