I’ve barely recovered from my Turkey Bowl injuries (Kristin covered me so ferociously that Dad—permanent quarterback and referee—called her for unnecessary roughness.) But today I’ll drag my aching body up to the attic to dig out the advent calendar.
Mom bought it for us a few years ago, and my children love to open a new door each day to find a piece of candy and a Scripture about the Christmas story. Steve reads the verses aloud while the kids listen attentively, their mouths full of chocolate and nougat.
In the past, I’ve used this simple Christmas countdown and references. This year, now that Jack’s older, I’m adapting this schedule of longer readings that begin with the Old Testament prophecies. As the days march toward Christmas, I want him to connect, in some small way, to the centuries of longing for the Messiah.
I’ve also pulled Nancy Guthrie’s Come Thou Long Expected Jesus off the bookshelf and placed it in my basket of quiet time stuff. I didn’t mark it up, as I do most of my books, so I can enjoy the daily readings afresh each year.
For my children, and for myself, I don’t want “the busyness of [the Christmas season]…to crowd out a quiet anticipation of the wonder of incarnation.” I want the glories of God become man to illuminate and outshine all our Christmas joys.