A Christmas Gift from Jesus | A Virtual Pilgrimage for Advent & Christmas: Octave Day 7

Reflecting on Dickens, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, and her own story, Rachel invites us to discover and cherish the personal grace Jesus gives each of us at Christmas — a gift meant to be carried throughout the year.

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Transcript

Every year, I reread Charles Dickens’ novel A Christmas Carol. One of my favorite lines from Ebenezer Scrooge is this: “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.” Lately, I’ve been pondering what it looks like to keep Christmas — let alone to keep it all the year.

Sure, we may feel the wonder and awe of the Incarnation on Christmas Eve at Midnight Mass, but do we keep that sense of God’s nearness throughout the year? Do we at least keep it through Epiphany?

One possible meaning I’ve found is to keep the gift of Christmas close in my mind and heart. The gift is not what we found under the tree. It isn’t just broadly “Jesus,” either — though, of course, he is the ultimate gift. I’m talking about the personal gift of Jesus to you: the particular grace he is offering you in his coming this Christmas.

Some years it’s obvious what that grace is. Other years, we may need to spend more time in quiet to receive it and claim it.

I’ll give you an example from one of my favorite saints. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux was the youngest of five daughters of Louis and Zélie Martin, themselves saints. Thérèse was admittedly spoiled by her family. In her autobiography, Story of a Soul, she writes about her struggles with emotion, saying she was almost unbearable — far too sensitive.

Thérèse’s mother passed away when she was only four years old, and ever since then she struggled with being quick to cry and hard to console. It was Christmas Eve of 1886, just days before she turned fourteen.

Thérèse felt strongly called to religious life, but she was far too young and childish to follow that call. She needed a miracle of God’s grace to overcome her sensitivity — and she received it.

She tells the story of finding presents in her shoes by the fireplace after returning home from Midnight Mass. Even at thirteen, her father was still babying her in this way. As she was out of sight around the corner, she heard him say, “Thérèse ought to have outgrown all this sort of thing, and I hope this will be the last time.”

Normally, a comment like that would have sent her running to her room in tears. But not this Christmas. Jesus gave Thérèse the grace to go back down the stairs, pick up her shoes, and joyfully open her gifts in the presence of her father.

The grace was inner strength. She later wrote: “I had gotten back forever the strength of mind I had lost at four and a half in one moment. Jesus, content with goodwill on my part, accomplished what I had been trying to do for years.”

I love that line so much. Thérèse knew completely who the gift was from. She called that moment her Christmas conversion — the beginning of her “little way” of doing small things with great love.

I had my own experience of receiving a very particular gift from Jesus at Christmas in 2020. I was pregnant with our son, Theo, and experienced a life-threatening complication at twenty weeks. I was put on strict bed rest and told that if I went into labor at that point, there would be nothing they could do to save him.

Add to that the COVID pandemic, and Advent that year was marked by anxiety, fear, and grief. I could not find it in myself to pray. I had to rely on others to pray for me. My weekly doctor appointments were a roller coaster — ultrasounds showing improvement one week and setbacks the next.

I anxiously waited for an appointment with a specialist who could tell us what might happen to our baby and whether he would make it to term. Appointments were hard to get, and the only one available was on Christmas Eve.

Well, Jesus knew exactly what he was doing.

I can still hear the doctor telling my husband and me, “Your baby is absolutely fine. I see no reason to worry. This is a Christmas gift for sure.”

And it was. In a very clear way, Jesus showed me who was in control — and exactly who the gift of my son’s life was from. I received not only the gift of a healthy baby four months later, but on that Christmas Eve I also received the gifts of peace and trust in God.

It was a turning point for me and a great lesson in hope.

Perhaps your gift this year has been subtle, like Saint Thérèse’s, or dramatic, like mine in 2020. Maybe you still aren’t sure what God gave you this Christmas.

Last year, I had the privilege of leading an Advent retreat with my wise and wonderful friend, Roseanne Corrie. She shared a beautiful meditation that I’d like to offer to you briefly.

Imagine there is a beautifully wrapped box with your name on it under the Christmas tree. You pick it up and see that the tag says, From God. How does it feel to hold this box? Is it heavy? Light?

Very carefully and gently, you untie the bow and peel back the wrapping paper with anticipation. You lift the lid of the box. What is inside?

Hold this gift in your hands and gaze at it with God. He has been waiting to give it to you, eager for your reaction. Hold this gift close to your heart and carry it with you all through the year.

It was meant just for you — from your Creator, who knows you better than anyone in the world.

It brings God joy to give it to you.

Cherish it this Christmas, and always.