“Never heard of it,” the tattooed guy behind the counter at the shoe repair place said, smiling, “and my wife is Swedish and I’m Norwegian.”
I had only mentioned Lille Julaften (Little Christmas Eve) to the man because he brought up his Scandinavian roots and said my order would be ready on December 23, the date of the Norwegian celebration.
Over the next minutes, pleasantries and hospitality warmed the strip mall shop. Our business finished at last, Husband and I strode toward the door.
“Lille Julaften, Lille Julaften,” the guy said, practicing the new-to-him words on his coworker as we exited.
I laughed and climbed into the car, happy to bring a new holiday into someone’s life. But what I thought about most were the guy’s tattoos—simple statements of affection and remembrance. And those markings played in my mind the rest of the day.
Today, I think of the One we celebrate this season, and I focus on His markings:
His forever crucifixion scars, so we remember the past.
His name, written on His thigh, so we hope for the future.
Our names, engraved on the palms of His hands, so we know we’re treasured today.
Gifts, shoe repairs, Lille Julaften, and tattoos. All fun. But this Christmas, may our lives be like His: printed with compassion, inscribed for victory, and etched by love.
(Check it out: Revelation 5:6, 19:16; Isaiah 49:16)