Sitting on the side of the road in a car with a dead alternator sucks.
Such was the Lenshyn family reality on a rainy Christmas eve. It was cold, wet, and horribly frustrating as we sat in a dead car. All we saw was the dollar signs it will take to fix our car troubles.
After we made the call to family with an emphatic “help” our three year old began negotiating his release from the car seat. Knowing our the hour long wait before us we said yes. The last thing we wanted was a grumpy kid strapped to a car seat.
And so began a wonderful hour of sitting in a car with our boy. He climbed, told us jokes, begged passing cars to stop driving, tried fixing our car with pretend Band-Aids, sang us a few songs, asked about the baby in his moms tummy and couldn’t wait to see his uncle Christ who was heroically driving out an hour out of his way to save us.
I hate clichés. They make me cringe. For me to write that I found a simple meaning of Christmas on the side of the road in a dead car with my family sounds lame. Yet it set off a chain of events that offered us love and support in the most practical of ways. Ways that are radical when compared with the opposite. We could have been sitting on the side of the road wishing we were loved.
Our Christmas we great. We didn’t miss a beat because people dare to love us. May we be a people who love.
I thanked Jesus for that hour.
How was your Christmas?