Last night, I had the joy of singing again with a choir on Christmas Eve. It reminded me of decades of choir Christmas Eve’s. It was a wonderful way to start Christmas.
With the service beginning at 11, and the brisk walk home at 12:30, it was after 1:00 before I got to bed, and another 45 minutes before I settled in. A long night, resulting in a short night in bed. This morning came early. Today, we had a subdued Christmas that started with homemade cinnamon rolls, and ended with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. The food was rich and good.
Christmas has always been a favorite of mine, and I’ve managed to mostly stay away from excess, unrealistic expectations and drama. Unfortunately, today, I wasn’t so lucky. Holidays are a trigger for many people, and they definitely were for my sick loved one. We started the day with drama, and concluded it with yelling, a truncated movie after dinner, and everyone retreating to their rooms.
So here I sit. In my dark bedroom, hiding from the raging storm, and full of sadness for Christmas’ past. Christmas for my loved one will never be the same, and because of that, neither for me.
And yet, God is with us. Emanuel. God came into this sorrowful world, to an unwed, homeless refugee. Mary’s life could not have been easy, and yet that’s how God chose to be with us. Not in pomp. Not in royalty. God came in the darkness. God is pure light, and in Jesus, God sent that light to us.
There were certainly times when Jesus withdrew from the raging storm, from the darkness around him. But the darkness did not overcome the light. Darkness will not overcome the light.
Perhaps more than ever, I’m grateful for Emanuel. Instead of hiding, now, I will sit in my darkened room with God’s light. The darkness will not overcome it.
No comments:
Post a Comment