“Four events in one week is too much. This is killing my Christmas spirit.”

Those Grinchy words actually escaped from my mouth last night as I shoved a bowl of soup at my husband and grabbed my keys to dash out the door. I’d been home from work approximately eleven minutes, and I left both wrapping paper and dirty dishes cluttering the kitchen.

I slipped into a seat beside my friend, Anna, just seconds before the elementary school program started. But we had enough time to share a sigh and compare the busyness of our days.

Then … the magic happened.

The K4 class rang those jingle bells and every mother’s child stood up to sing their little hearts out. In our particular community, a few of those children are experiencing their first Christmas in a home that is no longer broken, with a parent or parents who are no longer lost in a world of drugs or prison or both.

And I’m complaining about a long day?

Some of the other children are second generation church kids. We watched their parents perform in these same shows from the time they were in K4. Standing on stage in their swirly skirts and sweater vests, ringing their bells and giggling with their friends, it is impossible to tell the churched-for-life kids from the we-just-got-here-kids. Because everyone is having fun.

In that glorious hour, I could not think of another place I’d rather be. Four events this week? Bring it on. Let’s do five or six. Christmas is a busy season? Well, of course it is. Busy with the most wonderful experiences of the whole year and full of people who make it that way.

I think my heart may have grown three sizes tonight. And I hope it stays that way all year.