This is the time of year when I delete the Facebook app off of my phone for a little while. It is so intimidating watching other families during Advent, with their Jesse trees and their elaborate St. Nicholas Day gifts (I am the person in the Walmart checkout line at 10 o’clock at night or scouring through the leftover Halloween candy), matching Christmas pajamas, and endless holiday crafts. Instead of inspiring me to “do better,” it just makes me take a hard look around my house—a house that does not have lights hung on it, children are in pajamas that may be too small for them, and three Christmas boxes next to the tree that have yet to be unpacked. Hopefully, Santa can get it together enough to have the presents wrapped by Christmas morning.

Every year I think I will do better, but that has yet to happen. Every year though, despite me failing at my expectations, my children are joyful and happy during the Christmas season. Every year, Jesus comes again, despite my shortcomings and despite not fulfilling every Advent tradition. He still comes—God incarnate—and dies for my sins. Again, and again.

​​I think sometimes the devil thrives with all the busy Christmas goings-on in the world, because it creates stress during the joyful Christmas season and distracts us from what is really important.

And what is more important than that Jesus comes. Again.