I’m tired. Tired of so much in the most collectively exhausting, vexing year most of us have ever experienced. Covid-19, election upheaval, and social media vitriol top my list of what I’m so over. I miss normal expressions of friendship: meeting for coffee, going to movies, and actually seeing my pals face to face. And the old rhythms of married life: going to dinner, grabbing a drink, and engaging in interesting conversation because my husband and I haven’t spent nearly every hour of every day in the same house for the past nine months. But my version of tired is nothing compared to that of so many people whose physical, emotional, and financial fatigue is off the charts. Those heroes working in the medical field? They’re tired times a quadrillion.
So, when I was grabbing a coffee from a drive-through the other day, I eagerly waited for the woman to hand me my large latte with an extra shot, hoping it would energize my spirits along with my central nervous system.
“Are you ready for Christmas?” she asked. I replied that I was.
“How will your Christmas be different this year?” Ah, I thought, here’s my chance to slip in a moment of witness.
“We won’t be going to church as usual,” I responded. There. I had identified myself as a Christian and could proceed with my day, confident I’d done my bit for Jesus.
She gave me my drink and told me that she, too, would miss going to church.
“I love that moment when the candles are lit and we hear about the hope we have,” she said. “This year has been hard, but isn’t it great that God is in control and we know how this all ends?” She continued for a minute or so, excited to be talking about the crux of Christmas.
I could barely speak for the lump in my throat, and I tried to hold back tears. The Good News of Jesus Christ is as glorious in the drive-through lane of Caribou Coffee in 2020 as it was on the plains of Judea two millennia ago. This mic-wearing, coffee-dispensing bearer of glad tidings humbled me, blessed me, and refreshed me.
The thrill of hope. A weary girl rejoices.