I eagerly gazed out the plane’s window at the miniature-looking scene below. Snow blanketed the fields and tiny farms beneath me creating a winter wonderland.

The home that I grew up in had a large living room in the middle of the house, with high ceilings and a fireplace. This is where we set up our tree every Christmas. With the mantel decorated, and the tree twinkling happily with lights and years of collected ornaments and memories, it was the room that felt the most like Christmas.

My impression of the nativity scene as a child was similar to what many of us pictured, I’m sure. Baby Jesus lays in a cradle-like manger comfortably padded with soft hay. Stoic and peaceful livestock look reverently on, as do the wise men in their exotic garb.

Mary’s faith was deep, even as a teenager. God did not choose Mary by accident. He selected the perfect girl from Nazareth to carry His Son in her womb. And His choice was a girl whose initial reaction to the angel Gabriel was shock. But His choice was a girl who was obedient despite this.

“For nothing will be impossible with God. … Let it be to me according to Your word,” said Mary after Gabriel delivered the news. This faith would carry Mary through the highs and lows of her pregnancy.

I was recently joking with a friend that if I were to write a real-life version of “Do You Hear What I Hear?” it would focus around the sounds of children griping over logging into their virtual classes, the clang of dishes piling up in the sink, the ping as my husband texts asking if I’ve remembered to schedule a grocery pick up this week, and the buzzer on the dryer reminding me that, yet again, there is a mountain of laundry ready for me to fold.

One of my favorite parts of my morning routine is my walk outside. I walk early, before my husband and kids are awake and before the hustle and bustle of the day has begun. The stillness quiets my heart and mind. The beauty of nature around me reminds me of a God who is breathtakingly creative.

I believe that the peace of Jesus’s birth came not from silence but from those who believed and gazed on the beauty of the Chosen One, the babe who would strengthen their hope for total grace and forgiveness from God. This birth was a tangible sign of God’s love and desire to save His people, and it was the first of many wonders of Jesus Christ.

“I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give our king.”

Who can say that they haven’t felt this way at some point in their lives? And I don’t mean only lacking the financial resources to gift someone appropriately, but honestly couldn’t imagine a gift deserving of the person or persons it was intended for?

The evening Jesus was born would have begun as a typical evening for the shepherds who also called Israel home. What started as a peace-filled evening under an expansive, star-studded sky ended with celestial shouts of praise and a hasty journey to Bethlehem What magnificent sights and sounds to behold that night.

There is one specific time during the holiday hustle that the world stands still for me. For most of my years, I have attended Christmas services at various churches with various forms of worship (live, recorded, contemporary, traditional) and various life stages (with my parents and siblings, while holding my new husband’s hand, while swaying with a sleeping newborn in my arms, while watching on screen from the family room) and I’ve always felt the same peace wash over me. There is something about singing the familiar words to these beloved songs with people who share in your indescribable gratitude for this child, His birth, and a Father who loves us enough to have sent Him.

Some years at Christmas time I feel the warm comfort of family and community, while other years the loneliness of the holiday can feel unbearable. But one thing remains the same. My response to the groaning of the brokenness and pain I encounter in the world is to cry out: O come o come, Emmanuel.

Comfort and joy. In the best of times, these are welcome tidings. When things seem hopeless, when all is dark – comfort and joy is the best possible news.

Two years ago, I was scrolling Facebook when I saw a post from an acquaintance. She was sharing an adoption profile of a couple who was unable to have their own children. Their adoption application had been live for two years without any hits. “They are patiently waiting,” my acquaintance wrote in her post, “but they are so ready to become parents!”

The familiar carol “What Child Is This” describes the humble birth of the Christ child, pointing to the strange juxtaposition of the King of all Kings sleeping next to the feeding animals. I can imagine Mary addressing God in a similar manner to my own, as the she realized that her baby’s delivery was imminent. I don’t want to be here! Why haven’t you provided for us?

It was near the end of 2010 when I first heard to the carol “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” I had just purchased the Casting Crowns’ Christmas album Peace on Earth which was fitting because at that time, peace on earth was something my family truly needed. The months leading up to Christmas had been difficult and exhausting.

As I listened to Matthew describe the “great company of the heavenly host” appearing to the shepherds in the field, joyfully praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests,” my heart swelled as I sensed anew the wonder of Jesus’ birth.

For many, this hasn’t been a year of infectious joy. It hasn’t been a year of news so great it must be told everywhere. But it has been a year of watching from the mountain, much like the shepherds did as they “kept their watching o’er silent flocks”. And from this vantage point, where the road has risen, we have been able to see things that we could not have seen from any other place.

The message of “Joy to the World” is full of promise and the real reason for the joy in this season, the reason that never goes away. Christ was born! God had come to save his people. His promises proved faithful and true.