Your Secret List

I had held back the tears as long as I could.

I never meant to cry about this. I never meant to get worked up. But emotion found me just the same and finally like pulling the plug on a tub of water, I let it out.

It was nothing big. We had been talking about Christmas plans. The typical who are we going to see when. How do we make so and so happy and still keep the peace with everyone else.

I had made sure the kids were set; their lists scoured for the perfect choices with clear reminders that they would not, in fact, get everything.

Food menus were swirling in my head and imaginary shopping lists were written, keeping in mind of course who doesn’t like lasagna and who stays away from gluten. Yes, everyone had been thought of.

Everyone except me.

As much as I wanted to orchestrate the perfect holiday for everyone around me, there was a squeak of a whisper in my heart: “What about what I want?”

I knew this wasn’t about the gift question. No, this was about finding a voice for what mattered to me. Yes, clearly that was my problem. I had forgotten about me. I had it figured out.

Until I didn’t.

Until I was sitting on that couch with tears streaming down my cheeks, the lights from the Christmas tree blurring together in a blanket of color. The one thing I really wanted I had kept a secret, even from myself.

I wanted someone to care what I wanted.

I wanted to matter.

In this endless craziness of gifts and decorations and baking. In the wrapping and the cooking and the entertaining. In the deep down real heart meaning of Christmas.

I wanted to matter.

And that is when I am reminded of who I am in Jesus. Reminded that the little baby in the manger would have still come, just for me. He would have breathed in the smell of straw and cows, would have walked the streets and carried the cross, would have died in pain and come back in triumph. He would have done it all just for me.

Listen still, His heart speaks to mine, you matter. I know your list. I know your heart. I know the secret wishes that you keep buried deep. I know it, and I see you.

When you hear that little whisper down deep beneath all that you do, remember you are known and your list is never a secret to the baby who still would have come just for you.