Picture This

What a week this has been. Are you feeling it yet? Do you get hit with the press of Christmas? All the details? Do they weigh heavy?

Having adult children and the perspective aging brings has calmed me down but even still, Christmas presses a bit heavy. It's the details, all the details, and no matter what, details weigh heavy.

But then there is Ann. Do you know Ann Voskamp? Have you read her book "The Greatest Gift?"

Read it. I love it.

My dear friend Deb gifted it to me years ago and every year around the end of November I panic for a minute, hoping when Christmas was wrapped up last year and all the things were put away, that I put Ann's book in a place I remember.

This year I found it right where I left it - on a very prominent place smack dab in the middle of our main bookshelf where I couldn't miss it. Sometimes I impress myself.

This morning we had nothing to do. It was freezing rain and everything in our tiny Iowa world seemed to stay home. It was glorious. No rush and plenty of time to sit and read.

Ann's words are lyrical. They dip and swirl and dance creating pictures in my mind. The pictures carry possibility and the thrill of creativity, of thinking of life in a new way, of examining what is and thinking about what could be. Her words help take me to a place where I can set down the week heavy with stress and worry and put it away. All those heavy things don't need to be here. Not now. They'll still be there tomorrow and this time right now may help me understand the time to come.

Here we go:

"For unto us a Child is born" (okay, yes, you're right, Isaiah said it first but hang in there for a minute.)

"It's Christmas that dawns on you and you only really believe in Christmas when you really live it."

"And you can see it, with every lit candle, sparks of the dawning."

"When you warm the cold, hopeless places with the daring joy that:

God is with us,

God is for us,

God is in us."

"Hope catching on everything"

Lovely right? Do her words create any pictures for you? Let me share one of mine.

I picture a wide open field as a new day peeks up from the horizon. Trees are bare, the field has been plucked of it's summer bounty and yet the dawning. Do you see it? The pink, orange, and rose colored message of hope in a new day. The dawn is not only the color of the new day breaking, it is the feel of the cold air reminding you you are alive, the way the ground seems to be holy and still, the air itself vibrating with hope and promise, a whisper of good things to come. God is come. Dare to believe in God with us, for us, in us. After a week of work, and all the sludge it dredges up, bask in the colors, the hope, His love, His faithfulness, and let it speak to you.

I'm so thankful for freezing rain on a Saturday.

LORD,

Ann's words are so good, so powerful. Thank you.

Christmas in its simplest form is "unto us a Child is born." Christmas is nothing we do, nothing we build, nothing we can prepare for. Christmas is the gift of a new dawn, a new way, a light peeking up from the darkness and a candle in a window on a dark cold night. it is a dare to believe in hope and promise.

Make me a light LORD. Please make me a light.

I too easily forget to offer hope and my unbelief only makes the darkness darker.

Forgive me LORD.

Teach me more about hope and belief.

When I'm with Del - may I offer him hope.

When I'm with the kids - may they see hope.

When I'm at work, make me a light.

Help me believe.

I am past "fake it 'til you make it." I understand not every day is announced with color. Somedays you can stand out in a field waiting and what greets you is uninspiring gray. On those days remind me of this:

God is with us,

God is for us,

God is in us.

Show me what it means to live Christmas on days when belief is forgotten.

Fill us with hope. Remind us a Child was born. Give us eyes to see the sparks of the dawning. May we warm the cold hopeless places as we remember God is with us, God is for us, God is in us.

May the hope you bring catch on everything.

Amen.