This is Christmas

There is a place where love and tears meet and grace flows freely.

There is a place where weak are made strong and the strong are humbled into the place of weakness.  

There is a place where our very human experience is made sacred, holy, right.  

A place that exists because a baby entered into our darkness, a place where angels fought the darkness with their songs and announced the Christ child's birth.  

Yesterday, I saw a glimpse of this place, friends gathered to sing, singing songs about this Christ child to those weak, those humbled, those twisted and worn-out, to those precious and beautiful, to those created in the very image of God waiting to enter His presence, to those created in His image that haven't yet received His Son.

My tears flowed as I watched a 5 year-old friend smile and say Merry Christmas

a 10 year-old son sing earnestly, 

a 11 year-old son try to finding his footing in this sacred place,

11 year-old friend eagerly give good gifts,

13 year-old daughter sing like an angel, 

teenage friends stoop and gently touch the tired, the worn out whispering, "You are loved", 

adult friends saying, "You are not forgotten, I see you" 

and elderly friends stoop down and look directly into the eyes of the worn out, the twisted, the tired, the ready to leave this earth and say, "Your soul is not worn out, your soul has unimaginable worth" 

and my heart cried, "This is where love and tears meet, this is where grace flows freely, this is where the weak are made strong and the strong are humbled into the place of weakness...this is sacred, this is holy, this is right."

As we sang, "O Holy Night", I heard lyrics in a way I had never heard them before...

"'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth, 

a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices"

This is what brings worth, its in the reaching, and stooping and touching one another.  This is the loving and the serving of one another. This is worship. This is Christmas.

Grace

This is a week full of dates to remember.... St Nicholas Feast Day,  The Attack on Pearl Harbor, The Treaty of Paris, the birthdays of many friends, my cousin's birthday, and my sister's birthday.  But there were two dates that ate away at me all day today, the day my mom had surgery for cancer and the day I finished my Masters.  Those two dates are oddly connected in my mind.  One difficult, one celebration.  One the beginning of a journey, the other the end of a journey. They intersected the same year, at the same time.  I had one final paper the day my mom went into surgery.  My procrastination had won out, I thought I would have it done, but instead I sat in the hospital cafeteria typing a paper.  Six years later I'm not even sure what it was about, but the memory of sitting, typing and watching the snow fall is still fresh in my  mind.  Tonight I went to put on the necklace my husband gave me for graduation and every fear, every worry, every unknown came flying back at me.  Fear I had laid to rest, worry that had passed its expiration and unknowns that had become known.

Its in those moments that I can get lost in the past unless I hold on to the promise

 ~ "You will never be alone" 

Its in those moments when I want to seek comfort rather than Christ 

~ "I will be your rock"

  Its in those moments that I want to be grumpy rather than grateful 

~ "Rejoice in everything"

Its in those moments when I need

~ Grace

Grace has come.  With time grace has been poured out richly.  The more I watch for it the more I see ~ Grace!  Grace in the snow falling, Grace in the wind speaking His name, Grace in the presence of friends and co-laborers, Grace in a child's smile, a tween's look and teen's sarcasm, Grace in a husband who knows just how to reach my heart.  Grace.  Grace has been the fruit of the journey.  Grace is the reward of entering into the hard places.  It doesn't matter what happened a year ago this week, six years ago or centuries ago, God's grace hasn't changed.  May God pour His grace out on you and May you receive it and cherish the wonder of it.

Advent. Waiting. Coming

Its the last night of the first week of Advent, a week to think about Christ's coming, a week to think about the waiting, a week to think about the story, a week to experience change. 

 I started this week wondering, where has my wonder gone?  Do I still anticipate?   

Do I still get the chills at the thought of this God-child come to rescue me?   

And so I immerse myself in "the story" told in different ways but all pointing towards my Savior.  

All breathing wonder.  All whispering His name.  

All saying, here is the the Savior, here is the one come to rescue you.  

Advent.  Waiting.  Coming.

Advent.  Anticipation.  Wonder

"Somehow, this baby in this carpenter's home, in the middle of the village night, was the magnificent unmoving star, the center of all moving things, of all life, of the whole world."

Seeker of the Stars by Susan Fish