Finding a different kind of Christmas joy

Christmas is going to be different this year.

Having just moved — my husband Terry needed a one-level home due to his disability issues — I can't face dragging out more boxes, and unpacking Christmas décor. Last year, we assembled our first artificial tree. This year's idea is to string it with lots of lights and display it on our covered balcony deck. We can see it through the window, and others entering our neighborhood can enjoy it.

A younger couple comes every year to help us get the tree up and lit and put up window lights. They then join us on Christmas Eve for dinner and a hearth fire. As they have lived in an RV for years as they work toward their dream of building a home on their property, it is a welcome change.

Another difference this year is Terry's daily CyberKnife radiation treatments — a total of 28 — in Spokane Valley beginning next week, requiring a two-hour round trip for ten minutes of “zap.” He gets weekends, Christmas Day, and New Year's Day off. No shopping — I'm an in-person shopper — or exchanging of gifts, or other events while we deal with this. It's going to tire us both.

This might sound like a depressing, disappointing Christmas. But let me tell you a story. Before there was the first Christmas there was a young couple who had to register for a sweeping census of all the “inhabited earth.” That was a huge undertaking from the ruler of the Roman Empire. They had no choice but to stay home.

The trip was close to 90 miles on rough roads through mountainous terrain. They were not wealthy; if they even had livestock, it was probably only a donkey or two. Mary was nine months pregnant. I doubt it was an easy ride and it took them about a week to get where they were headed.

In that day you couldn't plan ahead or make reservations. They were slower than others due to Mary's bulkiness. They arrived in Bethlehem and there was nothing available — “no room in the inn.” You take what you can get, and what they got was shelter with the animals.

I don't know how many days they were there, but “while they were there” that baby decided Mary didn't have to travel home in the same discomfort. Although newly giving birth couldn't have felt great on the return, either. He came squalling into the world like a baby should.

Only He wasn't just any baby. He was God entering His own world, to live it all Himself without sin and give Himself for all of us who could not manage a perfect life. It is the ultimate Christmas exchange. The greatest gift I'll ever know — when I had absolutely nothing to offer in return.

So, traveling back and forth to Spokane every day — in the comfort of a car — doesn't seem that bad. Tiring, yes; but are we really going to be any more tired than Joseph and Mary were? And do we really need packages beneath the tree when we've got the gift of God in our lives — born in Bethlehem that night so long ago.

My Christmas carol line for this year is “A thrill of hope” — from “O Holy Night”. Jesus brings a thrill of hope to this weary world. And personally, to Terry and me in the weightiness of these last six months — and in the weeks ahead with this treatment. He does not disappoint. He is my shelter — where there is always “room in Him.”

Carol Shirk Knapp is the author of "A Preacher's Kid."