Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.
Philippians 2:3-7

Welling

My daughters gave me an early birthday present a couple of weeks ago – dinner followed by Amy Grant and  Michael W. Smith’s Christmas Concert. After listening to their music for over three decades, we sometimes say it’s our Christmas soundtrack, so it was delightful to see them in person.

Several songs into the concert, Michael announced he had released a new Christmas album, his fifth. (How did I not know about this?) He performed several songs from the latest release throughout the evening, but the initial one, “Sometime Every Christmas,” touched me the most. Michael barely made it through the first two stanzas before it evoked in me what the chorus described:

I’m thinking about the holiday
And the sands of time
Years pass like pages of old family
Photos in my mind

Faces and the places
How Decembers used to be
A little loneliness and longing
It rises up in me

Sometime every Christmas
Can’t say where or when or why
But some moment or some memory
Takes me by surprise
And something in the season
Wells up in my eye
Sometime every Christmas
I cry

My “sometime” isn’t confined to a single episode during the Christmas season, which is full of countless traditions associated with loved ones who are no longer here. Usually limited to the momentary welling Michael referred to in this poignant song, there are times when my emotions overtake me and welling quickly gives way to weeping.

Such was the case a few days after the concert when I came across a note from Mom.

Weeping

I’d been working on setting up my Dickens Village, a beloved part of my Christmas celebration ever since my late husband gave me the first few pieces 34 years ago. Ray gifted me a few buildings and accessories each year until he passed away seven years later, and I’ve continued to add to the display ever since.

Ray also started a village for Mom. Dad and I added to her collection until it became difficult for her to set up the display. I offered to do it for her. Instead, one early December day, she said, “Come upstairs with me.” I followed along as she slowly trod the stairs and stopped outside the closet where she kept her Christmas decorations. When she opened the door, I saw she’d taped a note on the shelf where the boxes holding her village sat. “HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY! I want you to have these so you can put them out when you do your others! Love you! Mom xxoo.”

I keep the buildings and accessories in their original boxes, which I store in multiple plastic tubs. Sentimental me kept Mom’s note. It resides in one of the tubs, but I somehow forget about it from one year to the next. Thus, it caught me off guard when I opened one of the containers the week after the concert. In that moment, I was no longer standing in my living room. Whisked back in time, I was with Mom, outside her closet. Her eyes shone with anticipation as she opened the door to reveal the surprise. Her joy in giving such a special gift radiated through her petite being. The scene replayed in vivid detail, though the event occurred nine years ago.

No welling of tiny tears when I read the note penned in Mom’s familiar handwriting. Full-body sobs overtook me as the note reminded me of all I’d lost when she went Home. Mom was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. Selfless and generous, she delighted in serving and giving to others. I often think of her when I read Philippians 2:3-8. Mom humbly put others’ interests before her own. Though her humility would never have allowed her to say, “Be imitators of me as I imitate Christ,” as the Apostle Paul did, nor did she hold herself up as a godly role model, she set a beautiful example for me to follow, nonetheless. Though I often fall short, one of the greatest compliments anyone can give me is to say some aspect of my character is like Mom’s.

Rejoicing

I enjoy listening to music while I’m working on my village. In a perfectly timed moment, as my sobs subsided, the Josh Groban song, “Thankful,” heretofore unheeded, arrived at the line, “We have so much to be thankful for.” Though I was by myself, I replied aloud, “So true, Lord! I have so much to be thankful for!” including the blessing of a godly mother, fond memories of Christmases past, and children and grandchildren with whom to share treasured traditions.

Advent is a time to contemplate the greatest gift ever: Jesus, God’s only begotten Son. Utterly undeserved, yet freely given, because God loves us (John 3:16)! Such a marvelous present belongs at the very top of our thankfulness list. The fact that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us makes all the difference, now and for eternity (John 1:14)! Jesus, the spotless Lamb, came to live the perfect life we could never live and died the death that belonged to us so that we can be dressed in His robes of righteousness, to stand in God’s holy presence clean and unafraid. How incredible!

Though we can’t grasp what it cost the Father and Son to bestow this gracious gift, may our hearts swell with gratitude and our eyes well with thankful tears, not just at Christmas but all year long, as we remember what Jesus has done for us. And, like Mom, may we endeavor to follow His example of humble selflessness.