It has been eight months since my mother died. I don’t think of her often, but some days the grief grabs hold of my heart strings and weighs me down. I am left with so many unanswered questions. The memories haunt me, afflict my inmost being where the childhood scar has again been torn open to bleed away the pain. All the while I am reaching for gauze, bandaids, and iodine to help counteract the wound that continually plagues me in hopes that this might be the last time for such first aide.
When the bleeding has stopped and I asses the damage of the open laceration, I know I need to close the wound so it may begin to heal properly. But this seems so hard to do. Especially on my own because I can’t hold the cut together with one hand and get the tape taunt enough with the other hand at the same time to bring the gash together. But I keep trying until I am frustrated beyond what I am able to manage and I just break down. I feel helpless, sad, and insignificant. I want to hide from everyone and just be alone. It’s exactly where satan wants me.
I am sure I am not the only one who has a hard time with family especially around Christmas time. I don’t even want to get on the roller coaster for the up and down emotions let alone try and jump off once the ride starts. Either way you either “feel” guilty for not participating or wish you hadn’t tried to make it work as you look back on the dismal disaster.
I end up a frazzled messy ball of yarn that needs a masterfully patient person to come untangle me. Someone who flawlessly weaves the fibers of my heart under and over…in and out…until the beginning meets with the end and the original starting point is found creating newness within me. I have only known of One who can do this…His name…Jesus.
Sometimes I think He gets tired of me, my mess, and ugliness. But he doesn’t. He says,
I can’t fix the ache that sometimes fades but comes back so strong notably at Christmas. But He can, He says,
He wants me to… give up trying, pray, and relent unto Him.
When I do this, I am not helpless in closing the open wound of hurt for Christ begins to do it for me. He remembers each sorrow I have endured and catches my tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8) as a reminder of His faithfulness to me. When I stop trying to figure it out…the solution…and just sit quietly with Him, His peace becomes an overwhelming presence and not the hurt. The breath of the Almighty gives me life once again (Job 33:4) and resurrects my soul to bended knee. I pray with thankfulness for His kindness towards me and the hope He gives me. I become able through His power to stand and love again without fear. Each moment, hour, and day is to be lived for Jesus…His glory…so that others might see His light shine through me.
So as you sit in the quiet moments with a hot cup of coffee enjoying your decorated tree. Remember He is the smell of the evergreen and myrtle, the twinkle of every Christmas light that reflects in you eye. He is the laughter of your children. He is the beauty of Christmas wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. This is what we are to remember…Christ The Lord…and then everything else fades to the background as He crescendo’s to magnificence in our lives.
Is there room in your heart for God to write His story?