Once again, not what it’s about. But the analogy stormed in. When we order Chinese, Steve always gets some. And the name of it always intrigued me. Because how can it be both? And yet, he assures me that it is.
And Christmas hits us in much the same way – exciting yet painful, sweet yet mournful, peaceful but stressful. Every year I live in anticipation of the season. Labor Day promises fall, which delivers the holidays. Then I get into it and I begin to remember the painful parts. And sometimes I’m even ready for it to be finished before it can get rolling.
I remember being twelve or thirteen and a powerful sadness settling over my Christmas. No, it had nothing to do with Santa – that was much earlier. It had to do with a realization that there were no real surprises left. Oh I could, and would, receive many wonderful gifts. But I think I had come to the understanding that stuff didn’t cut it, that there was really nothing I could receive that would bring lasting happiness.
I was a believer then, had been since I was a little girl and my faith was important to me. So I knew that I had the one thing in my life, Jesus, that would get me though anything. Perhaps it was that I now knew that Christmas was indeed meant to be lived thoughout the entire year and I also knew that it could not and would not be.
The irony for any woman who buys gifts, decorates, and bakes is that there will never be enough time to do it all and still sit for hours with friends and loved ones watching the Hallmark channel and munching home-baked cookies and candy. (Probably just as well.) Childhood tricks us. As children, we yearn for the day. And beginning two or three weeks in advance of the 25th, time slows to molasses. We believe it will never come.
Then we grow up and remember that feeling. And we want it back so we can fill it with made-for-tv Christmas movies and Kodak moments with family. I used to talk to my mom about my frustration and she would say, “Christmas is just a day.” And I would mentally call her Scrooge. Yet I have never known a less Scrooge-like person. She truly comes to mind when I read about the widow’s gift (Mark 12:42-44). She had so little; yet everything she received passed through her hands to someone else.
As I get older, I realize what she meant. Certainly, she intended the obvious that we need to practice our faith daily, year-round. But more than that, there is only so much cooking and celebrating we can do, can even tolerate, before it’s time to celebrate the day. And usually that season before comes with a mixture of nostalgia, excitement, pain of loss, loneliness, and joy. And once again, my Father understands exactly how I feel.
On that night so long ago, heaven must have surely been a place of mixed emotions. The angels must have experienced sadness as they bid farewell to their precious Jesus. Our Father probably felt great pride and joy as His Son left the glory of a throne, prepared to step into the skin of a tiny, defenseless baby. Yet He must also have grieved as the plan was set in motion to save us all by His ultimate death on a cross.
A strange Christmas greeting to you, I know. But I guess the message is, whatever you are going through as you read this, know that your Lord has felt it, understands it and feels it with you. Have a peaceful, joy-filled Merry Christmas!
John 3:16
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Friday, December 24, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Grateful for My Home
Our Pastor has been speaking on the Ten Commandments. We came to the last one today with “Thou shalt not covet.” He talked about the fact that coveting is a twisted desire – when we want something (or someone) so badly that it leads to discontent; when we want any one thing more than God; when it becomes “I would just be happy if…” and that answer is anyone or anything other than God.
It’s kind of funny because that whole contentment thing applies on so many levels, not just in being satisfied with what you have. I’ve taken this Sunday afternoon off, as I do every Sunday. I really regret that I did not start this practice until about five years ago. It is amazing how allowing myself this one day of total rest refreshes me so.
This afternoon I’ve been contemplating going to the Manning Restaurant tonight for our church celebration of Thanksgiving. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again, even though I just saw them this morning. It’s a blessing to be in a church where your fellow church members are truly your family.
Yet part of me also is looking forward to coming back home tonight, getting in my jammies and snuggling down into the bed. Then tomorrow I’ll spend most of the day in the kitchen cooking for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday week in Virginia with our family. I’m in a frenzy of excitement – simply can’t wait. Yet, I will be in a frenzy to return to our sweet home again. My mom used to call it wishing your life away.
I’m sure it’s the same with everyone – when you fly, don’t you see the trip out as a series of mileposts to get through? If I can just get checked in…if I can just get through security…we’ll board soon…we’re landing, if I can just get off this plane. And so it goes until we reach our destination and we begin to look forward (with dread or anticipation depending on where we are) to the trip home.
It’s not at all about being discontented. In fact it’s the opposite – it’s good wherever and whenever I am. Always looking forward to something, always waiting for it to be over so I can take a deep sigh and rest. And here’s the thing – it will be that way until I can finally return home, my true home.
So this is my very strange Thanksgiving post. Am I grateful? You betcha. For so many things – my faith, my husband, my children and grandchildren, my church, friends, South Carolina. But most of all because I have Jesus – and because of Him, I know where I’m going and that it will be good to be home.
2 Peter 3:13, 14; 2 Timothy 1:12b
But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him… I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day.
It’s kind of funny because that whole contentment thing applies on so many levels, not just in being satisfied with what you have. I’ve taken this Sunday afternoon off, as I do every Sunday. I really regret that I did not start this practice until about five years ago. It is amazing how allowing myself this one day of total rest refreshes me so.
This afternoon I’ve been contemplating going to the Manning Restaurant tonight for our church celebration of Thanksgiving. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again, even though I just saw them this morning. It’s a blessing to be in a church where your fellow church members are truly your family.
Yet part of me also is looking forward to coming back home tonight, getting in my jammies and snuggling down into the bed. Then tomorrow I’ll spend most of the day in the kitchen cooking for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday week in Virginia with our family. I’m in a frenzy of excitement – simply can’t wait. Yet, I will be in a frenzy to return to our sweet home again. My mom used to call it wishing your life away.
I’m sure it’s the same with everyone – when you fly, don’t you see the trip out as a series of mileposts to get through? If I can just get checked in…if I can just get through security…we’ll board soon…we’re landing, if I can just get off this plane. And so it goes until we reach our destination and we begin to look forward (with dread or anticipation depending on where we are) to the trip home.
It’s not at all about being discontented. In fact it’s the opposite – it’s good wherever and whenever I am. Always looking forward to something, always waiting for it to be over so I can take a deep sigh and rest. And here’s the thing – it will be that way until I can finally return home, my true home.
So this is my very strange Thanksgiving post. Am I grateful? You betcha. For so many things – my faith, my husband, my children and grandchildren, my church, friends, South Carolina. But most of all because I have Jesus – and because of Him, I know where I’m going and that it will be good to be home.
2 Peter 3:13, 14; 2 Timothy 1:12b
But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him… I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
I'll Have a Green Christmas
Nope, you’re not even close. Hard to believe, but I’m not about to talk snow. I finally made one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make. This year we will be greening up Christmas with an artificial tree. The fact that our last few trees had curvy trunks encouraged my choice. Let me start way back.
Forty years ago Steve and I celebrated our first Christmas together in our own home. For the first two years of our married lives, we lived in a small cottage with three rooms and a bathroom. A large room across the back became our bedroom and den. I painted the paneled cabinet doors in the fairly large kitchen with a combination of yellow, orange and avocado enamel paint – it was the 70’s after all. Our tiny living room had space for only a small love seat and a drop-leaf table, closed and pushed against the wall.
Excited to decorate our home for our first Christmas, we drove to the Kroger store to check out the fresh trees there. That valuable lesson of “everything looks larger once you get it in the house” was one I learned the hard way. We found a beautiful tree with an amazingly large trunk. We paid for it in a fever pitch of excitement and Steve dragged it to the car – carrying was not an option. The tree was not going to fit either in our car or on the top of it. I called my Aunt Dorothy who rescued us in her station wagon.
Several strings of white lights, a new larger tree stand and dozens of blue ornaments later, Steve and I sat on the floor at the base of our tree, admiring our work. The sofa and table had been relocated to the den and kitchen. The tree was huge, beautiful and I was hooked. Then and there I made an unconscious decision that all our Christmas trees would push the boundaries of space and patience.
Over the years we sawed, cut off limbs, replaced bent tree stands and bought more lights; but our trees were always the focal point of our home from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day.
Once the kids were able to walk, our most meaningful holiday tradition became going to the woods or to tree farms to get our tree. Every year found us on a horse- or tractor-pulled wagon riding out to fields of beautifully pruned Scotch pines or fir trees. And every year my insurance costs rose as I stood on chairs or step-ladders to lean precariously into the tree to decorate the top.
I remember the year our tradition began to go awry. The tree-gathering trip was as fun as always; but why, oh why did we not see that deep curve in the spine of our lovely Scotch pine? Somehow we managed to get it into the tree stand and keep it up through the holidays, but the trend was set.
By this time the kids were grown and we were trooping through the trees and playing hide-and-seek with kids and grandchildren. The next year our usual tree farm was “catching its breath” and closed for the year and we found another one online – the beginning of the end. We drove into the next county and piled out of the cars (by now we were transporting two trees) and into the fields. Nothing; there was nothing that appealed to us and I began to get an uneasy feeling that our tradition was leaving us. We separated and each family drove to lots to pick out trees.
That particular Christmas, the tree was so curvy (and at this point we were trying to watch for this!), it kept falling. We finally had to undecorate it and get another tree. The next year was pretty much a repeat and I was beginning to yearn for a tall, straight tree that I could count on standing.
The next year we had moved to South Carolina and were still in many boxes because we were having work done on the house. I bought a little live Norfolk Island pine and decorated it; but Christmas was not the same.
Over the spring and summer months of this past year, I have been struggling with the artificial tree decision. Today I ordered the tree and I’m excited! Because I believe we can see any circumstance through the glasses we choose to wear. And today, I’m wearing my “this will be a beautiful, tall, straight tree and you will never again have to struggle with lights” glasses. I could easily go the other direction with my mood but Steve and I have way too much to look forward to.
However, cautious optimism is the phrase of the day. Though I do have a nice, sturdy stepstool, I am getting older; and I ordered a 7 ½ foot tree. The way I see it, that was a compromise. We have cathedral ceilings and I could have gone for the 12 foot one.
Forty years ago Steve and I celebrated our first Christmas together in our own home. For the first two years of our married lives, we lived in a small cottage with three rooms and a bathroom. A large room across the back became our bedroom and den. I painted the paneled cabinet doors in the fairly large kitchen with a combination of yellow, orange and avocado enamel paint – it was the 70’s after all. Our tiny living room had space for only a small love seat and a drop-leaf table, closed and pushed against the wall.
Excited to decorate our home for our first Christmas, we drove to the Kroger store to check out the fresh trees there. That valuable lesson of “everything looks larger once you get it in the house” was one I learned the hard way. We found a beautiful tree with an amazingly large trunk. We paid for it in a fever pitch of excitement and Steve dragged it to the car – carrying was not an option. The tree was not going to fit either in our car or on the top of it. I called my Aunt Dorothy who rescued us in her station wagon.
Several strings of white lights, a new larger tree stand and dozens of blue ornaments later, Steve and I sat on the floor at the base of our tree, admiring our work. The sofa and table had been relocated to the den and kitchen. The tree was huge, beautiful and I was hooked. Then and there I made an unconscious decision that all our Christmas trees would push the boundaries of space and patience.
Over the years we sawed, cut off limbs, replaced bent tree stands and bought more lights; but our trees were always the focal point of our home from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day.
Once the kids were able to walk, our most meaningful holiday tradition became going to the woods or to tree farms to get our tree. Every year found us on a horse- or tractor-pulled wagon riding out to fields of beautifully pruned Scotch pines or fir trees. And every year my insurance costs rose as I stood on chairs or step-ladders to lean precariously into the tree to decorate the top.
I remember the year our tradition began to go awry. The tree-gathering trip was as fun as always; but why, oh why did we not see that deep curve in the spine of our lovely Scotch pine? Somehow we managed to get it into the tree stand and keep it up through the holidays, but the trend was set.
By this time the kids were grown and we were trooping through the trees and playing hide-and-seek with kids and grandchildren. The next year our usual tree farm was “catching its breath” and closed for the year and we found another one online – the beginning of the end. We drove into the next county and piled out of the cars (by now we were transporting two trees) and into the fields. Nothing; there was nothing that appealed to us and I began to get an uneasy feeling that our tradition was leaving us. We separated and each family drove to lots to pick out trees.
That particular Christmas, the tree was so curvy (and at this point we were trying to watch for this!), it kept falling. We finally had to undecorate it and get another tree. The next year was pretty much a repeat and I was beginning to yearn for a tall, straight tree that I could count on standing.
The next year we had moved to South Carolina and were still in many boxes because we were having work done on the house. I bought a little live Norfolk Island pine and decorated it; but Christmas was not the same.
Over the spring and summer months of this past year, I have been struggling with the artificial tree decision. Today I ordered the tree and I’m excited! Because I believe we can see any circumstance through the glasses we choose to wear. And today, I’m wearing my “this will be a beautiful, tall, straight tree and you will never again have to struggle with lights” glasses. I could easily go the other direction with my mood but Steve and I have way too much to look forward to.
However, cautious optimism is the phrase of the day. Though I do have a nice, sturdy stepstool, I am getting older; and I ordered a 7 ½ foot tree. The way I see it, that was a compromise. We have cathedral ceilings and I could have gone for the 12 foot one.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
My Grown-Up Christmas Wish
Last night I had the Christmas dream again.
What woman doesn’t have an ideal Christmas vision with the house decorated beautifully, dozens of different kinds of cookies baked, fudge and divinity in pretty crystal dishes everywhere, and loads of gifts wrapped with coordinating paper under a massive nostalgic, overly lit up, yet oh-so-tasteful Christmas tree. Well behaved, well-dressed smiling family waiting on the couch for the perfect photo for the card. Am I letting my analyst side take over again?
Truly when I was a young mom I did have a dream about once a month without fail. Always, in the dream it was a couple of days before Christmas or Christmas Eve. I was usually crying, having realized that I had let it slip up on me once again. I was distressed because the tree was never decorated and I didn’t have gifts for everyone. But the real heartache lay in the sense that I had somehow failed to enjoy it. The season was already almost over and I had somehow come up short. And I would have to wait another whole year. I would wake up with a heavy heart and the sense that I had once again missed the boat somehow, even if it was mid-April or July.
In reality as I got older, I got better at the game. I was more organized. It was still stressful, but I was getting it done. The kids seemed happy with Christmas and, though I never seemed to have time enough to do everything I needed/wanted to do and just “enjoy”, my efforts succeeded. And the dream, while still disturbing, occurred less and less frequently. But, more important, when I did dream it, I woke up less sick at heart. I was somehow achieving what I needed to.
I never stopped to think about why I was having it. It seemed obvious to me that I had somehow put way too much pressure on myself to achieve this holiday perfection that was impossible to accomplish. I just figured I was doing it better somehow. The dream disappeared about ten years ago and I wasn’t sorry to see it leave.
So when I woke up this morning, heavy-hearted more that the dream was back than from the content, I began to try to figure out why. There were all the obvious reasons. The weather was cool and gray. I had been listening to my usual November Christmas carols and getting daily updates from ABC Family’s 25 Days of Christmas on Facebook.
I tried to remember the essence. The decorations were a piece of it but they didn’t seem that important. The overriding concern was that it was late on Christmas Eve, I couldn’t do any shopping and I had nothing to give my family.
Is it possible that it can be that obvious? That I honestly don’t believe I have anything left to give my children and my grandchildren? I don’t for a minute think that is so. I wonder if it’s not about the fact that I’m feeling the need to pass along more meaningful gifts – lasting gifts. I offered them my best – my faith – from the time they were small. But is there some other something that I need to give?
Ironically, it’s November 4th. I still have more than enough time to prepare. My hope – my wish – is that I can figure out what it is that I’m feeling the need to give and, more importantly, that I will have the courage to give it.
Watch out kids. It may not be a Wii Christmas. Sorry Steve, the Golf Warehouse may take me off their catalog list. Can I somehow wrap up peace, joy, humility, love, gentleness – some gift that keeps on giving? Then maybe this dream will have spoken to me for the last time.
What woman doesn’t have an ideal Christmas vision with the house decorated beautifully, dozens of different kinds of cookies baked, fudge and divinity in pretty crystal dishes everywhere, and loads of gifts wrapped with coordinating paper under a massive nostalgic, overly lit up, yet oh-so-tasteful Christmas tree. Well behaved, well-dressed smiling family waiting on the couch for the perfect photo for the card. Am I letting my analyst side take over again?
Truly when I was a young mom I did have a dream about once a month without fail. Always, in the dream it was a couple of days before Christmas or Christmas Eve. I was usually crying, having realized that I had let it slip up on me once again. I was distressed because the tree was never decorated and I didn’t have gifts for everyone. But the real heartache lay in the sense that I had somehow failed to enjoy it. The season was already almost over and I had somehow come up short. And I would have to wait another whole year. I would wake up with a heavy heart and the sense that I had once again missed the boat somehow, even if it was mid-April or July.
In reality as I got older, I got better at the game. I was more organized. It was still stressful, but I was getting it done. The kids seemed happy with Christmas and, though I never seemed to have time enough to do everything I needed/wanted to do and just “enjoy”, my efforts succeeded. And the dream, while still disturbing, occurred less and less frequently. But, more important, when I did dream it, I woke up less sick at heart. I was somehow achieving what I needed to.
I never stopped to think about why I was having it. It seemed obvious to me that I had somehow put way too much pressure on myself to achieve this holiday perfection that was impossible to accomplish. I just figured I was doing it better somehow. The dream disappeared about ten years ago and I wasn’t sorry to see it leave.
So when I woke up this morning, heavy-hearted more that the dream was back than from the content, I began to try to figure out why. There were all the obvious reasons. The weather was cool and gray. I had been listening to my usual November Christmas carols and getting daily updates from ABC Family’s 25 Days of Christmas on Facebook.
I tried to remember the essence. The decorations were a piece of it but they didn’t seem that important. The overriding concern was that it was late on Christmas Eve, I couldn’t do any shopping and I had nothing to give my family.
Is it possible that it can be that obvious? That I honestly don’t believe I have anything left to give my children and my grandchildren? I don’t for a minute think that is so. I wonder if it’s not about the fact that I’m feeling the need to pass along more meaningful gifts – lasting gifts. I offered them my best – my faith – from the time they were small. But is there some other something that I need to give?
Ironically, it’s November 4th. I still have more than enough time to prepare. My hope – my wish – is that I can figure out what it is that I’m feeling the need to give and, more importantly, that I will have the courage to give it.
Watch out kids. It may not be a Wii Christmas. Sorry Steve, the Golf Warehouse may take me off their catalog list. Can I somehow wrap up peace, joy, humility, love, gentleness – some gift that keeps on giving? Then maybe this dream will have spoken to me for the last time.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Simply Feeling Peaceful
It’s crept up on me again. That emotional, roller-coaster time of year when at one moment life is not only good, but vibrant, exciting, full of promise and – whoops, the next minute is here already and, hang on, I’m plunging down that mudbank of despair. All right, I hear you. Maybe I’m exaggerating a wee bit.
But aren’t the holidays something of a mixed blessing? I blame it all on the grocery stores. Where the Halloween candy sat yesterday, there sits on November 1 a display of canned pumpkin, cranberry sauce, mini marshmallows, nuts and spices. And my blood begins pumping. Not with thoughts of the Thanksgiving food, but everything that goes with it. The harvest decorations, (which for me are the ones I pulled out in late September and are now beginning to look a little tired – my gourds are moldy for goodness sake!), the travel plans, the step onto the holidays merry-go-round.
No, it’s not about the fixins’. It’s about the whole family event. My thoughts race forward to what this year will be like, older adults and the absence of children and grandchildren, and my emotions begin to plunge as I remember past beautiful and ideal Thanksgivings. Wait. We are a normal family – we had no perfect Thanksgivings! But jostling, crowded, table-bulging dinners with too many chairs at one table and children complaining about the lack of chocolate desserts – those we had.
Just indulge me one more quick personal note and you’ll be glad you did. Because, wow, do I have a holiday tip for you! All those lovely Thanksgiving pies and cakes? Our family eats those on Thanksgiving morning for breakfast with the Macy’s parade. C’mon you know you’re too full to really enjoy those after the big meal. And you’ll love them with a big fire in the morning. I know I’m too late this year, but you can remember it for the next.
Hop off the Thanksgiving tilt-a-whirl and get in this long line for the Christmas bone-jarring, brain-rattling roller coaster! Rinse out the last of the Tupperware that held those turkey leftovers because you’ve got only a few short weeks to sample this smorgasbord of ups and downs, this eat stress like candy, this try to catch the spirit of, this why do I hate this holiday I love thrill ride.
We go through it every year, don’t we? It looks like we’d learn. I think it’s because the season, the day, is so important we just want to get it right. We do want to pay tribute to the Savior whose birth we celebrate. But we also want to love our families and honor our friendships and show our appreciation to those we love. We just feel this deep sense of obligation while the child in us screams “Why can’t it be like it used to be! What about my fun?”
All that to say I have no answers for you. But I can reach out my hand and offer you the promise of peace – sweet, quiet, personal peace – in the midst of all the bell-ringing, cash register craziness. And that is no small gift. Don’t misunderstand. It’s not mine to offer. I’m just the messenger.
But imagine this – a small oasis, a sweet smile and an understanding heart that is eager to join yours when the lines get too long or the noise gets too jarring. Jesus is standing right next to you and He understands it all because He’s felt it all – the press of the crowds, the demanding voices, the rejection of family, the failure to please when you’ve offered the perfect gift. He feels your pain and He’s holding out His hand to relieve you of the burden.
Just take a deep breath and go there with Him to that place of quiet rest in the middle of the mall. Personal peace. You’ll still ride the emotional roller coaster. But you’ll ride it with a smile.
Isaiah 26:3; John 14:27
You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
But aren’t the holidays something of a mixed blessing? I blame it all on the grocery stores. Where the Halloween candy sat yesterday, there sits on November 1 a display of canned pumpkin, cranberry sauce, mini marshmallows, nuts and spices. And my blood begins pumping. Not with thoughts of the Thanksgiving food, but everything that goes with it. The harvest decorations, (which for me are the ones I pulled out in late September and are now beginning to look a little tired – my gourds are moldy for goodness sake!), the travel plans, the step onto the holidays merry-go-round.
No, it’s not about the fixins’. It’s about the whole family event. My thoughts race forward to what this year will be like, older adults and the absence of children and grandchildren, and my emotions begin to plunge as I remember past beautiful and ideal Thanksgivings. Wait. We are a normal family – we had no perfect Thanksgivings! But jostling, crowded, table-bulging dinners with too many chairs at one table and children complaining about the lack of chocolate desserts – those we had.
Just indulge me one more quick personal note and you’ll be glad you did. Because, wow, do I have a holiday tip for you! All those lovely Thanksgiving pies and cakes? Our family eats those on Thanksgiving morning for breakfast with the Macy’s parade. C’mon you know you’re too full to really enjoy those after the big meal. And you’ll love them with a big fire in the morning. I know I’m too late this year, but you can remember it for the next.
Hop off the Thanksgiving tilt-a-whirl and get in this long line for the Christmas bone-jarring, brain-rattling roller coaster! Rinse out the last of the Tupperware that held those turkey leftovers because you’ve got only a few short weeks to sample this smorgasbord of ups and downs, this eat stress like candy, this try to catch the spirit of, this why do I hate this holiday I love thrill ride.
We go through it every year, don’t we? It looks like we’d learn. I think it’s because the season, the day, is so important we just want to get it right. We do want to pay tribute to the Savior whose birth we celebrate. But we also want to love our families and honor our friendships and show our appreciation to those we love. We just feel this deep sense of obligation while the child in us screams “Why can’t it be like it used to be! What about my fun?”
All that to say I have no answers for you. But I can reach out my hand and offer you the promise of peace – sweet, quiet, personal peace – in the midst of all the bell-ringing, cash register craziness. And that is no small gift. Don’t misunderstand. It’s not mine to offer. I’m just the messenger.
But imagine this – a small oasis, a sweet smile and an understanding heart that is eager to join yours when the lines get too long or the noise gets too jarring. Jesus is standing right next to you and He understands it all because He’s felt it all – the press of the crowds, the demanding voices, the rejection of family, the failure to please when you’ve offered the perfect gift. He feels your pain and He’s holding out His hand to relieve you of the burden.
Just take a deep breath and go there with Him to that place of quiet rest in the middle of the mall. Personal peace. You’ll still ride the emotional roller coaster. But you’ll ride it with a smile.
Isaiah 26:3; John 14:27
You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
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