A Simpler, "Binglier" Christmas!

   

       

     Bingley--sound asleep.  Doesn't look all that comfortable...but when you're exhausted, anywhere and anything will work.  I was about ready to crawl into that crate myself.
     Puppy joy has been slightly diluted by the fact that I'm unable to get much of anything accomplished these days--between running outside, shouting "Hang on, Mr. Bingley," to cleaning up another pee pee accident on the kitchen floor, to trying desperately to teach him the meaning of the word, "Come!"  (and how about now rather than, say, day after tomorrow?).  I've noticed the "Come" command works magnificently while in the kitchen and holding a handful of food...not so much, however, while outside and trying to lure Bingley from under the bushes where he's eating whatever unmentionable, gross item he currently has in his mouth.
     By the way, what's the deal with that?  Geez.  I mean, really, how hungry can you be that such disgusting items apparently hold such an appeal? 

     This is what Bingley does when he wants you to sit down on the floor, so he can crawl into your lap.  He'll come sit or lie down right at your feet (and sometimes on top of your feet) till you plop down on the kitchen floor with him--at which point he happily climbs into any lap available.  This works pretty well right now (unless you actually have something to do--like maybe get ready for Christmas or go to the grocery store or get something, anything, accomplished).  I'm wondering how this will work when he's about 60 or 70 pounds.  Hmm.  We'll just go with the Scarlet O'Hara approach and not worry it since tomorrow is a whole 24 hours away.  

     Yep, he's a sweet little cuddle bug and loves, loves, loves to sit in your lap.  But here's another thing Bingley seems to love: going pee pee.  Seriously, we (let me rephrase that--I) take him out about 100 times a day.  And he does a magnificent job--I'm always crowing "Good bathroom, Bingley, good bathroom!!"  Then we walk inside...and he promptly goes pee pee on the floor.  O my stars!!    
      I'm thinking we need to call the vet and report that our beloved puppy has a dangerous kidney disease...or at the very least a leaky bladder that may require surgery or doggy diapers (do they make those?) or military school.  Clearly, some drastic form of intervention is required here.  "Bad bathroom, Bingley, bad bad bad, very very bad bathroom!" doesn't seem to be making much of an impact on his little psyche.
     Sooo, in the meantime, we do not yet have a Christmas tree, and yours truly, the queen of a million nativities (I love them and adore putting them all over the house), has put out one lonely small nativity set in the den.  The only problem is, I never get to go in the den, because I'm LIVING in the kitchen with Bingley, shouting "Bad bathroom, Bingley" and sprinting with him out to the backyard.
     My point in all this?  I have no idea. I forgot, since while I was writing this, Bingley somehow managed to extricate himself from the crate where I thought he was sound asleep and came around the corner into the living room.  O NO--think of all the rug space between there and here! O mercy.  It's just better not to know about some things, isn't it?
     No, no really, I did have a point--and it is that I've concluded this will be the Christmas we finally, truly simplify.  Seriously, I know we all talk about it--how crazy and commercial Christmas is; what an exhausting rat race it can be; and how we need to focus on the Lord Jesus and His glorious coming.
     But then 99.99% of the time, we just keep racing on that endless treadmill of decorating, cooking, shopping, buying, hurrying, striving, worrying, and trying desperately to somehow or other cram it all in.  That's just no way to celebrate the greatest event in human history--when Almighty God invaded His creation to become one of us.
     So this year, if you come to our house (and we'd love to have you stop by anytime, by the way!) we may or may not have much of a tree.  The nativity sets will likely still be packed away in the attic.  The elf on the shelf may still be residing in the same spot in the living room for five days in a row.  And no telling when the Christmas cards will be going out or if we'll be baking those yummy candy cane cookies (though there will always be time for chocolate).
    But, Lord willing, we will know that the true joy of Christmas resides not in all the bells and whistles but in the Divine Baby in the manger.  I've already jettisoned the idea of a Martha Stewart fabulous Christmas in favor of a much simpler and joyously focused Christmas.  I was never much for hand-painted wrapping paper anyway.
     Here's all we need to know: "For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)  Or as John put it: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." (John 1:14)
     God was born...as a baby...to be our Savior.
     Just wrap your mind around that--God was born (the glorious infinite Almighty born)... as a baby (the Sovereign Creator of the far flung galaxies as an infant)...to be our Savior (thank You, Lord, for coming to the cradle for the sole purpose of going to the cross).
     If we can just live in the wonder of that joyous truth of God-Baby-Savior this Christmas season, even if nothing else gets done around here, well, we'll all be more than fine.  And Mr. Bingley--he's pretty wonderful, even if he's a lot of trouble.  Sometimes God's greatest gifts come wrapped in unexpected packages.
     To God be the glory.