I have a few Post-its around the house with phrases or words that I want to be reminded of daily such as, “What are you grateful for right now?” and “Focus on the donut not the hole.” 

In the days leading up to Christmas, I have a new Post-it to add to the collection. It reads, “It’s not what I imagined…” It’s a reminder that when these words pop into my mind it’s a red warning light to stop. I envision the red lights and bars that come down at railroad crossings when there is a train approaching an intersection. This is a key intersection in my mind. When that phrase, “It’s not what I imagined” pops up, I can either stop, take a slow, deep breath and make room for God’s grace or I can be hit by the rumination/regret railway and lose this precious, present moment.

For example, I woke up tired and cranky one recent morning. Jet lag had kept me up for half the night and thoughts about how to make my sister’s visit special, preparations for my oldest stepson’s birthday and what we would do for Christmas Eve dinner kept me up for the other half. We had been away in the Middle East for three weeks and had only landed back in the country two nights before. After about 24 hours of travel, we had hit the ground running with my sister helping me with last-minute birthday and Christmas errands and stocking our empty fridge.  My partner had been home simultaneously battling a work deadline and a nasty cold that had him like a ton of bricks in the middle of our 15 hour flight back from Riyadh. 

As I thought of getting up and making the traditional birthday breakfast and then hitting the crowded roads and stores again for more last-minute Christmas things, the phrase, “It’s not what I imagined” popped into my head. If I had my druthers I thought grumpily instead of sitting here in my bathrobe bleary-eyed and trying to figure out a more efficient way of getting caffeine into my bloodstream than sipping a cup of tea, I’d be bright-eyed, dressed and everything would be ready for the birthday breakfast, Christmas, my suitcases would be unpacked and the laundry would be done, etc., etc. 

Thankfully, instead of continuing on that train of thought, I sensed a little voice warning of danger ahead with these thoughts and I stopped to take a long, slow breath. That was God’s grace.  As I continued to be still, making room for more of God’s grace, I wondered, what does getting ready for Christmas really mean? Is it a perfectly cooked meal on a perfectly set table? Is it about everything looking like I imagined? Or is it about preparing my heart for Jesus? And what does that look like? Perhaps it starts with appreciating this breath and this moment just as it is. Perhaps it’s finding something to be grateful for in this moment just as it is and not ruing the fact that it’s not as I imagined. It made me think of a story from one of Sister Carol’s Bible studies, the story of Mary and Martha in Luke 10-38:42 ³⁸ As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. ³⁹ She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. ⁴⁰ But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

⁴¹ “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, ⁴² but few things are needed—or indeed only one.^[a] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”Martha missed being with Jesus right in her own home. How often do I miss being with Jesus, especially during this season, when all too often my focus is on making things look like the picture in my head instead of spending time with Jesus who is right in my heart waiting to spend time with me?  

I know this will be an ongoing struggle for me, but with God’s grace and my post it warning me of the danger of the phrase, “It’s not what I imagined”, I know I can get better at appreciating the moment as it is and recognizing the priorities that have eternal value.

Patricia Wu