Page 38 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“When will the McEntires come?” she asked.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you they were going to the five o’clock candlelight service before coming here? I told everyone we’d pass on it this year since it’s icy out there, and with your hip and all.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And it sounded like your mother was going to go with them. I’m not sure about Olivia.”

“Nice to have a few hours before chaos erupts.” She leaned back and gazed at the mantle clock. “It’s barely four o’clock and already dusky outside.”

“Some peace and quiet to ourselves.” He wasn’t sure how long Olivia would be gone, but he suspected she was with Malcolm. “You know, Jane, I was doing some thinking earlier today . . . about, you know, some of the issues we talked to you about the other day with Pastor Justin.”

“My obsessive compulsions.” She scowled. “Are you about to lecture me on how I need to meet with Justin’s therapist friend too?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mean to go there,” he said quickly. “Actually, it all got me thinking about the first Christmas.”

“The first Christmas? You mean when we first got married?”

“No, I mean the one we celebrate, when Jesus was born.” He smiled. “And since we can’t make it to the candlelight service . . .” He waved to the candles. “Maybe we can sort of have one of our own.”

“Oh?” She studied him. “Are you going to read the nativity story from the Bible like you used to do for Olivia when she was young?”

“Not exactly.” He considered his words. “And I’m no preacher, but I got to thinking about heaven.”

“Heaven?” She leaned forward with worried eyes. “Oh, Rob, please, don’t tell me you’re thinking about death. Are you sick?”

“No, no.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I was thinking about Jesus, the Son of God, and what he had to give up in heaven to come to earth. Now, I’m no expert, but from what I’ve read and heard, heaven must be amazingly spectacular and beautiful. I personally think earth is incredibly beautiful. The parts humans haven’t damaged, anyway. Which makes me think of something else. You know, God created a perfect world with mountains and oceans and flowers and trees and animals and . . . well, you get the picture. Anyway, I think most people agree that humanity has managed to mess a lot of that up. Think about it. Between war and greed and thoughtlessness, there are places on earth that are pretty sad and disgusting and messy, all thanks to humanity. I wonder how that makes God feel. But that’s not my main point.” He chuckled. “Just a little rabbit trail I went down recently.”

“But you make a good point. God is a perfectionist.” Jane seemed vindicated.

“Yes, but his idea of perfection is a whole lot different from ours.”

“I suppose.” She leaned back, listening.

“Anyway, back to Jesus. So, he’s there in this amazing place that’s unspoiled by humanity’s greed or stupidity. No pollution, no wars, no hatred. And God decides to send him to earth. So where does God send him? Not to a palace that wouldn’t even begin to match the beauty of heaven. Not even to a nice home. No, God sends Jesus down to a shelter for animals. Whether it was a barn or a cave or a stable is for historians to argue over, but it was where they kept donkeys and cows and oxen. And it was winter. Can you imagine what it smelled like? Or what it looked like? Dirt and straw and animal feces all around.”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Sounds pretty disgusting.”

“And messy.”

She merely nodded.

“So, the Son of God is born in the midst of messiness. And for some reason God felt that was the perfect place for him. And Jesus, who was perfect, came into a world that was one great big mess, in every way imaginable. And yet that was exactly what God wanted. It was perfect. And it was perfect that Jesus lived among messy, he walked alongside messy, and he dwelled right next door to messy.”

He paused in his unexpected sermonette to see if Jane was following his reasoning, and she seemed fully focused. So he continued. “Just think about the kinds of people Jesus dined with, visited in their homes. Messy people with messy lives. He was perfect, but he reached out to poor smelly fishermen, he befriended shunned prostitutes, he invited despised tax collectors to dinner. He even touched lepers who were so messy and afflicted and smelly that no one wanted to be anywhere near them. Perfect meets messy. With no judgment. No condemnation. Nothing but kindness and grace from the Son of God as he engages with messy people and messy lives. Our perfect Savior remained right in their midst, engaging, befriending, helping, healing, redeeming.” He sighed and took a slow sip of eggnog. “That’s a lot to wrap your head around.”

She just nodded with a thoughtful expression.

And then they both just sat there in the peaceful space, absorbing the sights, smells, sounds of Christmas . . . and Rob felt hopeful.

twenty

The coffee shop was busier than Malcolm had expected, as he’d thought other people would be busily getting ready for Christmas. But maybe that was for the older generation, like his parents, since most of the customers in here appeared to be more of his age group. He wondered if they all lived here in town or were visiting their folks for the holidays. And he wondered if he could really fit back into small-town culture like he’d just assured Doc Wheeler he was ready to do.

Admittedly, his reentry back into the home front would be much smoother with the right woman by his side. But was the right woman ready for that? And was Olivia really the right woman? Most of the time he believed she was, he wanted her to be, but sometimes her uptight mother was unsettling. And what if Olivia wasn’t interested in living in her hometown? After all, she had her life in the city. And sometimes she seemed perfectly happy there. Maybe he was moving too fast. Maybe giving up the security of his demanding job at the city clinic was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. After all, Doc Wheeler’s goal was retirement. What if Malcolm wasn’t ready to carry the workload that came with running his own practice?

But he shoved all those troublesome thoughts aside as Olivia walked in the door. As usual, she looked fresh and pretty with her auburn hair partly tucked under a dark knitted cap dusted with snow, the rest curling around her cold flushed cheeks. Her eyes lit up when she spotted him. He pointed to the coffee mug next to him, and she broke into a grateful smile to see he’d already ordered for her. She peeled off her parka and sat down with what sounded like a happy sigh.

“Having a good day?” he asked.