It’s Advent season again, all the photos tell me. Images of eloquent displays, candles, boxes, calendars, books, trees, nativities. We have been traveling for weeks, and little feels like Advent.

It is never lost on me as a mama of young kids that these holiday memories hold significant weight in the vault of childhood. Christmas lights set a stage and highlight moments. Memories resound in the choruses of hymns and jingles. The magic of this season thickens time, capturing moments, preserving them.

As I scroll feeds and see all the things we could be doing to cement these weeks, it leaves this mama heart uneasy, because I don’t want to do all the things. I don’t want to cram all the moments into twenty-five fleeting days.

Advent is here, and just like every year, I feel terribly unprepared. Not only because I have planned nothing, but because I’m terrified that if I do dare to plan, Advent will be lost.

Then again, Mary wasn’t prepared for baby Jesus, either. In many ways I, like her, have little idea of how Advent will unfold. And yet as she stared down into the eyes of the babe cradled next to her chest, she found Advent.

No matter what does or doesn’t unfold, when this season closes the question that will matter is this: did they see Jesus?

In the glisten of their mama’s eyes as she sang Silent Night, did they see Jesus?

In the giving of cookies to neighbors, did they see Jesus?

In time given to stories and family and reflection, did they see Jesus?

Did they see the Babe in Bethlehem, and trace His journey to Calvary Hill?

Was any temporal disappointment swallowed up in the hope that the baby brought?

Every year as we flip to the final page of the calendar, I feel wholly unprepared — as if any of Christmas depends on me. Advent is said and done. All that matters now is the retelling. Whether it be in captivating displays and dependable traditions, or simple, imperfect moments. What will matter is whether they came face to face with Immanuel. Did they see Him, hear Him, feel Him near enough to grasp His hope? Did they hear the whisper of His promise — Immanuel, God is with us — and did that promise root down deep to guide them in the coming year?

Did they see Him?

Did we?