I wanted a dress for Christmas this year. A new dress. Specifically velvet. There’s just something so Christmassy about a velvet dress. And, realistically, my inner child was delighted by the thought of a twirly emerald or ruby velvet dress.

But this year wasn’t the Christmas for a new dress, velvet or otherwise. Little Ya-ya (thanks, Dad) was sorely disappointed on Christmas Sunday. Don’t we all want to present our best selves to Jesus?

Leaning over the bathroom sink to swipe on a brush of mascara, my Jesus whispered right down deep into the depths of my soul:

I came to a messy manger, an unstable stable, and animal salivated swaddling cloths. There was no velvet, no bows, no finery. Just come as you are. I just want your heart. Let go of perfectionism. I came to an imperfect place, a dirty place, to show you that outward purification is no longer required to have access to God. I am the way, the ladder, the bridge. Come as you are.

I’d searched, tried on, bought, returned velvet dresses, and ultimately ended up mismatched. Imperfect. Nothing matched; my decade old skirt had a hole. Lily forgot her glittery Christmas shoes, and we were walking up to the church doors before I realized she’d put on her clunky, muddy snow boots. She’d left her fancy hat behind. We came as real and authentic as we really are. No best foot forward. No hiding behind velvet and pretenses. Real. Vulnerable.

And no matter because Christmas Sunday was unforgettable. For the first time, I really grasped that in His freedom, I am indeed free. I can simply come as I am.

We’d been taking a peek into the untold stories of Christmas this season at church. Christmas Sunday, pastor unraveled the excruciatingly difficult stories of Mary and Joseph. Their stories that morning wove perfectly into the loving whisper-message Jesus had shared earlier that morning. Everything was as if orchestrated just for me. So personal. So beautiful.

Standing to worship my Jesus, I looked down to see a rainbow there on my boot. A promise. A sign that He’ll always meet me there in my mess, bringing light, bringing beauty. Perhaps it’s when we’re most vulnerable, most imperfect, most real that Jesus can most easily break through to share His love-gifts. He doesn’t want to see the velvet and bows; He wants to see me. He doesn’t want my best self; He just wants me. As I am.