This is my favorite Christmas song.
The lyrics speak something new to me each year, and this year is no different. I am reeling in thought over the words already.
Two days ago, its messages started seeping in, as I searched for a version of the song to add to my mixpod (my little blog iPod thing on the right).
O come O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel.
O come. It starts with a plea, repeated and desperate. The melody is gilded with mystery and something ancient it seems.
And then a call, by name. Emmanuel means "God with us," a translation I will talk more about in another post. Our God came down to earth to be with us and to be us in nearly every way. That means he gets it. Anything I have to bring, he gets.
That pleading finally reached my center tonight. It became my plea, without my realizing it at first. I had a rough last couple of days as a mom, feeling blanketed with shame hearing the sound of my own harsh voice to my children. I finally brought my mess before Emmanuel, the one who understands because he was and is with us, and there is no human way I am able to hold back tears when I reach the point of the plea. I wonder if I can even plea at all unless I am crumpled up in need first.
A plea is not just asking for him, if he'll take a peek into my life. Check things out. It's not polite or careful. It's at the end of pretense and cover and excuse. And pride.
I am pleading, raw. O come, O come, Emmanuel...into my mothering and into my home and into my words. Please.
I sat on the couch in stillness for a few moments, wiping tears. Then something in my spirit responded, a quiet, gentle reply.
I'm already here. It is you who needs to come to me.
So. I'm doing my part. Moving my heart towards abiding. Again. It's so easy to get thrown off course, especially in busy seasons, sick seasons, weak seasons. And it's so easy to forget that it is more important than ever during those seasons to not just bring ourselves and our issues to our Emmanuel, but to stay put.