No reservations.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son 

and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, 

because there was no place for them in the inn. --Luke 2:7

Christmas is officially over. Even the Orthodox church has celebrated the holy day. At my house, Christmas went back in the box this morning. The tree is down, the Advent calendar carefully rolled up and tucked away.

So why, you ask, has she chosen this verse from the Christmas season?

When the babe was born, Luke tells us, the inn was crowded. So the ones we call the Holy Family were relegated to the stable. The child of God was wrapped in rags and placed, somewhat unceremoniously, in the manger, the trough where the animals are fed.

All because the inn was crowded. All because way back then, there was no way for the family to "phone ahead" and be sure there would be a place for Mary to deliver her firstborn child.

No reservations.

But really, the whole story has been one of "no reservations," in another sense.

When the angel Gabriel visited Mary and told her God was going to use her as an instrument to carry and birth God's own son, Mary said yes. Now, I do not believe she immediately said yes. I think, beyond her original question ("How can this be, since I am a virgin?"), Mary may have spent a bit of time pondering what Gabriel was telling her. But after she pondered, she said yes. 

"Let it be to me as you have said." No reservations. Her "yes" meant "yes."

When Joseph learned his betrothed was with child, he pondered divorcing her quietly. But again, enter Gabriel. And after Joseph received the explanation through a dream (and I suspect he, too, pondered the words for a bit)-- he said yes. No reservations. Even though it was certainly likely he was subjected to ridicule, his "yes" meant "yes," and he stood by Mary and honored God's plan.

So what about us? How are we doing?

It seems to me that the time to live into Christmas begins-- now. 

We have heard God's promises again. We have listened to stories of angels and shepherds, of cruel kings and foreigners. We have sung carols and lighted candles.

And in the days following, as we moved towards a new year, many of us made promises. (We call them "resolutions.")

Only a few days into the new year, and I suspect many of us are already struggling to keep those promises. We may have over-promised, or perhaps we are finding reasons (excuse) not to follow through.

True confessions: I struggle with this. A lot. But this year, I am trying to take a page from Mary and Joseph's book.

I have not made any resolutions about food or exercise or things like that. 

But I am trying to commit myself, even if it takes some pondering first, to follow as God leads. Preferably with less heel-dragging and excuse-making.

No reservations. Full-on, full-out, risk-taking and trusting. 

And I am, frankly, nervous. Can I really make my "yes" mean "yes"? 

Not maybe, or how about next week-- but yes. 

It is a tough task.

So I didn't put all of Christmas back in the box.

I have a small Nativity carved of olive wood, an all-in-one piece that sat atop the entertainment center throughout Advent and Christmas. I kept it out and moved it over to the center of the hutch in the dining room, where I will see it more often.

I am hopeful that its presence will remind me that Christmas is not a day, or even a season, but a call to a way of living, each and every day.

Gracious God, help us. Lead us to yes. Bring us, each day, to a renewed awareness of how you call us to lives of peace, hope and promise. Amen.