By Joan Bay Klope

In spite of the fact that Christmas merchandise is displayed long before I’d prefer to see it, I find myself feeling a bit “Christmas-y” already. The other day I broke my own private rule about celebrating one holiday at a time as I pointed my cart toward the Christmas aisles at a nearby store. I wanted to see what new additions I could make to the rural town scene the kids and I set up in our home each December. I found a bag of environmentally friendly EcoSnow, a couple kissing under mistletoe, and a charming stone fence. I wondered when I might ask my husband to haul the stuff down from our attic.

Contributing to my brewing enthusiasm is my dear friend Betsy, also my favorite barista at the local Starbucks. She’s the one who introduced me to eggnog lattes and has been reminding me that the morning I pen this column Starbucks will unveil yet another beautifully merchandised Christmas selling season that I’m sure to enjoy. That’s because I’m all about coffee, music, friends, and great conversation. Come rain or shine.

And I have a thing about mugs. My collection is bursting from my kitchen cabinet. On a damp and chilly day, if I wrap my hands around a mug warmed by a great beverage and utter a prayer of thanksgiving, my spirit opens up and I feel His touch. It’s happened too many times for disbelief.

This time last year I felt differently. I was too shocked and emotionally emptied to utter my thanks and savor the little things. In fact, they went unnoticed. That’s because I had to bury my promising young nephew and precious dad within an eight-week period last fall. I remained functional but felt disconnected and weary. Simple pleasures did not comfort me as they usually do. The anticipatory planning for Thanksgiving and Christmas I usually cherish seemed overwhelming, so I pared my expectations down to a minimum. There was absolutely no creativity to be experienced and thankfully, my family understood. I orchestrated a basic timeline, managed to get a turkey in the oven and we quietly moved through November and December without falling apart.

I reveal these details for this reason: Time heals. God heals. I did not want to reorder my life but I have and what I see as I enter this holiday season is much to be happy about and thankful for. In fact, I’m beginning to feel almost an urgency to do things that will contribute to a deeply meaningful experience this year for those around me.

If best-selling author Max Lucado were here, he’s point out that my losses and gains are an expected part of the human drama. Mine are no different than yours. We all face giants and God provides ways to topple them.

One of the biggest giants is what Lucado calls a “distant diety.” We choose to believe in God, but at times He seems so distant and remote we struggle and falter, even though it’s our ultimate desire to experience him so we know we’re never along.

Lucado uses the Old Testament story of transporting the Ark of the Covenant to explain how God came to those involved in the parade and how He will come to us today. The ark was a rectangular box commissioned by Moses. It was small but carried the most precious of artifacts that included a gold jar of unspoiled manna, Aaron’s walking stick that budded after being cut, and the stone tablets recording the Ten Commandments. It was ornately decorated and came with very specific instructions on how it was to be handled and transported.

At the time of the reign of King David, it had been nearly forgotten for 30 years. When David settled Jerusalem, he arranged to have it transported back into the city.

Completing the task required two attempts. During round one Abinadab the priest put his two sons Uzzah and Ahio in charge and they haphazardly loaded the ark onto an ox-drawn wagon and began the march. Ignoring all the rules God had laid in place, Uzzah lost his life as he grabbed the holy chest when it nearly fell to the ground following a stumble by the oxen.

Wrathful God? Distant and unforgiving diety? One might think so for a moment until we learn the last part of the story. King David did his homework when preparing for round two. He learned that such a precious cargo demanded respect for the rules and a thankful disposition. The ark was not to be lifted with hands but acacia poles. Those same poles were to be rested on the shoulders of his soldiers for the remainder of the trip. The requirements did not stop there. David was to fill his heart with reverence and dance before his people to celebrate God’s amazing gifts.

Observing David’s reverence and an enormous spring in his step, God drew near to David and the people of Israel — just as he’ll draw near to us. Let’s approach the coming weeks, as we prepare for our Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations, with no less.

Come Lord, we long to see you. We want the assurance you’re near.