Christmasy Comfort

Last weekend Ruth and I drove out to Boston to pick up our newly married friends Katharine and Matt. We got back yesterday night from our 18 hour road trip, so (as usual) I’ve got travel on the brain.

Of course Ruth and I went out to Boston to see other friends and as a sort of vacation for ourselves, but to me the trip felt based in Christmas—in the idea of getting our friends home to their families. Meanwhile, Sarah has been stuck in London trying to get out of Heathrow for the last five days. Day after day we got word of yet another one of her flights being cancelled, and I felt so far from her as she weathered disappointment after disappointment. Christmas drew nearer and it seemed she wouldn’t get a flight in time to be home.

It’s a CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! Sarah is winging over the Atlantic as I write this, headed for North America. In the car yesterday Katharine kept saying that she was so impressed by her parents—they did everything short of chartering their own plane to get Sarah home for Christmas. I can’t help but think of all the people who will not be able to get out of the UK for Christmas. I’m impacted by something I’ve taken for granted in past years: the importance of just making it home.

Right now my dad is driving, Sadie is on Austin’s lap (he has his headphones in as usual), and my mom is passed out in the front seat. We are flying down I-39 rocking out to the Amy Grant Christmas CD like we do every year, and like every year we are all kind of dreading a week at my grandparents house in the middle of nowhere with no internet.

As usual at least half of us forgot our cell phone chargers, and getting out of the house was a chaotic mess. Our hopeful departure time was 8 a.m., and as we tried to leave people kept yelling, “It’s 8:15!”….“It’s 8:25! Has everyone gone to the bathroom?” and then, with more tension, “It’s nine o’clock!! We finally got going around 9:30, and it’s stressful and a car is the last place I want to be after spending 18 hours on the road yesterday. Maybe it’s a cheesy message at Christmas, but in this moment it doesn’t matter that we’re off schedule or that nobody actually likes the Amy Grant Christmas CD. Our chaos is comfortable, and I’m thankful we’re all here sharing it together.