Sparkle. Shine. Music. Sweetness.

Laughter. Magic. Wonder.

Parties. Peace. Friends. Family.

Packages. Ribbon. Anticipation.



They say this is it, don’t they?

This is Christmas. This is the holiday season.



But what about… when it… isn’t?



What about when the sparkle can’t be found? What about when laughter stings? What of the moment when one realizes the music has ceased to play?



Pain. It comes like a fog and wraps itself around the soul.

Mourning what was. Wishing for what might have been. Wondering why… why…

The clock stops for no man. The calendar days march on. And hearts are trampled under the resounding drum beats.



Who sees the one, crouched in the corner, wiping the tears while the party goers dance on?

Does anybody see through the fog, hear past the music, to the heart crying for mercy?



He sees.

He sees.



Do you recall that baby? The one wrapped in none but dust-stained cloth?

Do you remember?

He grew.

He grew, that baby, into a man; God wrapped in mere human-skin.

He loved, He healed, He carried,

He died.

He hung, His back pressed against splintering wood,

and He thought of you.




He thought of your hurt.

He felt it.

He knew the cause. He knew the loss. He knew the weight.

He heaved His last breath

and He took it.

He took the pain. He took the load you carry.

He didn’t cause its existence to cease. He didn’t blot it out of history’s ledger.

But He pulled it to Himself, brought it upon His own shoulders and He wrapped you in a blanket of love. He took your hand and gave you strength from His own, a reason to walk.

He whispered, gently, convincingly, “Take my yoke upon you, dear one, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”



Your pain is real. It fills you and seeps from your pores. It sucks the life from your heart.

But that baby? The newborn Messiah, held close in His mother’s arms in on a cold night?

He is power. He is strength. He is comfort. He is love.

And He came to give it it to you.

Won’t you let Him hold you this year?

***

Last Tuesday my husband left my arms to finish his year-long tour of combat in Afghanistan. On Wednesday, my father came to my home for an unanticipated, unexpected visit, two years to the day since that rainy afternoon on which he told my brother and I that he chose her over our mother, over us, over our life as a family. I’m currently on the road, preparing to spend this celebratory Christmas week with my last living grandparent, my precious grandmother who is battling end-stage cancer.

Since beginning to pen these words, I’ve also heard the news of the tragic death of a friend’s precious toddler, and always held close is the thought of my sweet friend who has lost both her daughter and her grandmother in one year.

My heart is heavy.

Let’s hold each other close in prayer, shall we?

I send you love.

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