I've never written a Christmas message for my site until now. Each year I struggle in my attempts to come up with something fresh and meaningful, something worth posting. This year is no different. I've seen and heard and read many beautiful things this season. I've been asked, "Do You Have Room for Jesus?" I've been reminded to "Give to the One Whose Birthday it Really Is." I wonder what can I do that hasn't already been done? What in the world can I say that someone else has not already said better?

So I find myself here alone with my thoughts. Certainly I know the Christmas story. I know the Reason for the Season. Of course, there is the flurry of activity and the anticipation of seeing family and friends. There is Mama's cooking. There is the music. There are the smiles and the hugs, the gifts and the laughter. Still, amidst all the cards I send and receive, all the e-mails I read and share, regardless of my beautiful Christmas tree and all the sparkling lights in the city, despite all my giving, despite all the songs I sing and all the prayers I pray, I have this gnawing fear that the true essence of the season may be lost on me this year.

Then last night, I thought back to a time when I was far less busy, when I was a much younger and a lot less jaded. And it was there that I remembered what Christmas really is to me. I wrote a song when I was 18 years old and a freshman in college. It wasn't a particularly good song as I look at it now. The meter was clumsy, and the melody was far from unforgettable. But the song captured an innocence that has escaped me in the 21 years since I wrote it.

You see, back then I knew that a manger was a feeding trough, but I didn't know that the stable was actually a cave in the hills surrounding Bethlehem. I knew there were animals there, but I didn't connect them with the smell of livestock or their excrement. I knew that the Babe was wrapped in swadding cloths, but I didn't realize that swaddling cloths were rough like burlap. I knew that hay made me sneeze, but I had never imagined a newborn baby actually sleeping in it. I had never even seen a baby being born. I had never been cold, bone-tired and in pain, uncertain where, when or even if I would have a place to sleep that night. I had never imagined the darkness or the fear or the loneliness that Mary must have felt as she was about to deliver her firstborn Son.

I had not considered how incredible it is God would allow Himself to be born into this world, only to die. I couldn't imagine that He would do it for me, simply because He knew that a little black girl named Monica would someday need a Savior. He knew that I would walk in darkness until I met Him, the One who would transform my darkness into light simply by His presence. I didn't fully understand what it meant for the Word to become flesh and dwell among us. When I wrote my little song, all I knew was that God gave me a gift and that I wanted to give Him something in return. Now I praise God that I understand just what an indescribable gift it was! I thank God that by the power of His Holy Spirit, He has reminded me that the gift He desires most is me! Hallelujah! Thank you Jesus!