Picture this – You are about to embark on a family visit to see the grandparents. You can’t afford to kennel the dog. You have three kids ages 0-7 You load up the station wagon with enough clothes to get by for three days. The playpen is included with the luggage, dog kennel and dog. Christmas presents and homemade baked items are stuffed into the empty spaces. It’s about 20 degrees outside and a blizzard is expected between Minneapolis and Milwaukee. You’re hearing the familiar, “Are we there yet?” starting within the hour. The camp songs have run out along with your patience. It starts to snow, creating a beautiful landscape, sparkling like diamonds. Within half an hour the snow is falling sideways, and blizzard conditions are now in effect. Don’t you just love holiday road trips with kids? We made it a tradition, that would run out when our kids grew into their teen years and the grandparents would begin to come to us.

You continuue your road trip and see cars in the ditch along with frustrated travelers trying to figure out how they’re going to survive in the now dropping temperatures. You try to maintain your sanity as “Are we there yet,” has become a recurring theme. You start to fall asleep to escape the mass hysteria that’s now ebbing within the confines of your temporary house on wheels. Suddenly red lights are seen flashing in the distance. Another accident. Time to stop. Pull into an all-night truck stop. Get out of the car. Go in. You have entered the Twilight Zone. Others who are trying to reach their destination are huddled together, sipping on coffee and hot chocolate. Mind you, this is the age of no cell phones – no ability to text and let people know where you are – the Internet has not yet been invented. In those days, you had to wing it. So we did. We joined the group of travelers in the huddle.

Every Christmas road trip we ever took, brought to mind that very first Christmas journey. Mary and Joseph were on their way to the home of their ancestors to register for the census which Caesar had called for. Mary was probably in her final days of pregnancy. Joseph walked as Mary sat upon a donkey. The roads were rugged. The path filled with all kinds of possible dangers. They pushed on with determination to get to Bethlehem. The only distractions were the sounds of wild animals and the potential attack by thieves or murderers. They left their hometown and the whispers of the family and neighbors whose tongues were now wagging about the impending birth of Mary’s “illegitimate” child. When they got to their destination, they were met with no place to stay. Mary was about to give birth and there was not a room available. She had to deliver that child, the Son of God, in a stable where animals were kept.

As we rounded the corner to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, I felt compelled to thank Jesus for being born on that first Christmas Eve. Because of that treacherous journey, the birth pains, the lack of housing and all the other things they encountered along the way, God was coming into this world of darkness to bring light to all of us. Every trip comes with a certain amount of angst, but what a wonderful gift arrived when Jesus was born. Unto us, a Savior came to be one of us. That’s good news that we are joyful and grateful to share with everyone.