In the classic novel A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens uses ghostly visits to both unsettle and inspire Ebenezer Scrooge. These encounters awaken the old curmudgeon to a better way of living. To the relief of both the readers and the characters within the story, Scrooge is transformed by these encounters—and the whole community is affected for the better.
My Own Ghosts of Grace
December is one of the most emotion-stirring months of the year. Many of these feelings are what our culture calls “magic”—the feel-good moments of the season: twinkling lights, festive music, and stockings hung with care, to name a few. Yet adults cannot deny the other end of the emotional spectrum that often emerges at this time of year. The stressful demands of the season can be heavy: financial strain, packed schedules, the pressure to create perfection. The expectation for everything to be merry and bright can even feel burdensome.
In those moments, when the demands of the season are mounting, my mind drifts back to the graces God has given me in Christmases past.
The Time I Was Broken
In my early years of college, there was a December I will never forget—though not for pleasant reasons. Perhaps it was an inevitable part of my coming-of-age. As a young adult, I found myself with far more responsibilities than I had ever known as a child, and I was beginning to feel the pressures most adults carry during this season of life. I simply remember feeling—and being—rather unpleasant. While I disliked this version of myself, I had no idea how to change it.
I began with Confession—a Sacrament I love and always try to receive during the penitential season of Advent. It brought peace, but only briefly; days later, the stress crept back in.
Then, on Christmas Eve, I attended Midnight Mass with my family. Kneeling in the dim light of the church before Mass began, I had no words—only a sinking disappointment over my lack of charity that Advent.
I’m so weak. I don’t feel worthy to be here. I don’t feel worthy to receive You, Lord.
Then I heard it—His voice—in the stillness of my heart: That’s the reason I came.
Only five words, but I immediately understood everything they held. I did not need to hide in shame or embarrassment over my failings. He came because of my brokenness—and the brokenness of the whole world. God became man, choosing the dirt of a stable so we could be born again into divine life.
The Time There Was No Room at the Church
It was the 4 p.m. Christmas Eve Mass and our first Christmas away from the rest of our family. Knowing this was the most popular Mass for young families, we arrived nearly an hour early, hoping to secure seats. To our surprise, not only were the pews full—there was not even standing room. The church was packed, and the ushers regretfully could not let anyone else inside without breaking the fire code.
But the parish was prepared. Speakers had been set up outside so those who could not enter could still participate in Christmas Mass. Volunteers continued counting heads to ensure there would be enough hosts for everyone to receive Holy Communion.
So we stayed.
We peeked through the windows as we paced the sidewalk with our toddler. And at some point, it struck me: This is what Bethlehem must have been like.
Moving slowly with a child . . . arriving later than others . . . finding no room . . . problem-solving . . . settling for a less-than-ideal space . . . trying to keep a little one warm in the cold night air.
I started to cry. There was no room—and it was beautiful.
That Christmas Mass will always remain one of my favorite Christmas experiences, because I felt so deeply connected to the Holy Family. And at the end of it all, though things had not gone according to plan, I still received Jesus—and the night felt utterly divine.
Every December
Each year, as the burdens and strains of the holiday season mount, my faults begin to surface. The children do the very things that slow our pace and make us late, and my instinct is often to slip into a Scrooge-like frustration—until I remember his story.
Do I want to be changed, and in turn, help shape my little community for the better?
Of course I do.
And so I return to the graces of Christmases past, and above all, I return to the One Who loves me because of my weakness. In stirring up those graces, I find again the peace the world cannot give (see John 14:27).
Grace est une contributrice régulière du blog BIS. Elle avait prévu d'être infirmière jusqu'à ce qu'une rencontre avec le Christ dans la confession déclenche une étincelle qui a abouti à une carrière continue en tant que professeur de théologie au secondaire. Bien qu'elle soit un berceau catholique, elle continue d'être émerveillée par la profondeur de la paix et de la joie que l'on peut trouver dans la foi et ne peut s'empêcher de partager cette passion avec les autres en tant qu'enseignante, écrivaine et conférencière. En dehors du ministère, elle touche à un peu de tout, n'excelle dans presque rien et, comme la plupart des mamans, ne peut survivre sans au moins une tasse de café par jour. Grace réside à Charleston, SC avec son beau mari et leur fille qui lui ressemble. Vous pouvez en savoir plus sur elle ici . Lisez tous les messages de Grace ici .
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