Thursday, December 21, 2006

Dearest God,

Someone recently said, "Christmas is Hell, Christmas is Hell!" "Christmas is Hell?" I asked. "Yes!" I felt really sad when I heard the words spoken out of anger, loss and grief. Is Christmas really Hell? Christ's birth? Angels singing? Divine mystery unfolding? Silence bringing life?

It's not really Christmas. It's other things, rejection, hurt, disappointment, disbelief. Pain and suffering have entered the heart; the soul is reeling. Christmas gets the brunt of the situation. Can't blame it on your own inability to cope or others who are perceived to be the culprits. Christmas is Hell.

This person is not the only wounded soul right now. Others are feeling it too. The black hole gives way, allowing the sorrowful to slip even further into the abyss. Grief enlarges, becoming so enormous that persons are overcome by the trickery of the spirit. Christmas is Hell.

Keeping an eye on the prize is difficult when the dark fog rolls in. Engulfed in what is unseen leads one to believe they are not safe, that devils are present seeking to overtake them. Giving in to the fear, the darkness seems the only likely option. That's when the skidding begins...the hole is only too ready to receive them.

But! But, darkness can never win the day because even darkness leads to the light. And the light leads us to God. Our souls do have to adjust to the light in the darkness. Unexpected, we look around, open and close our eyes, not quite sure what is happening. That's when the holy spirit mist o'ertakes the darkness. The battle is won. The light wins, reclaiming its own child. God has God's own way. Nothing can ultimately keep God's own.

We step into the light, that awesome light of the Spirit. The stale, stagnant air of death is replaced by fresh, clean, crisp air of God. And God allows us to breathe his air of love and that love fills every pore. She who was lost is found. He who was blind now sees. The crippled walks again. The dying takes hold of its own Creator. And the voices of saints and angels...sing...God brings God's lost children home, into his own bosom.

Christmas is not Hell. Pain, suffering, loss, grief, sorrow, anger, resentment, bitterness is Hell! Christmas is the antidote to all these. Hope is the gift of Christmas, a hope arising out of faith and trust. A tiny baby's cry captures a wounded soul. Tears dry up, leading the wounded to cling to hope. Not a hope that has unrealistic expectations but rather a hope that is eternal where God whispers loving messages. We are not dependent on what others think of us, what they give or fail to give to us. We are part and parcel of Someone greater, a child, a revered child, much loved. We need only take a baby step into His waiting arms. God's word heals, reconciles our inner self. We are not lost there. We are found.

Christmas is the prize the eye wants to see, the ear wants to hear, the hand wants to touch. It is Christ we ultimately want because He has what we need, peace. Let it be, I pray to you.

In the Holy mist
of your Spirit,
I stand
bringing the wounded.
Where else can they go?
Into your arms,
your loving arms
where everything we need
is present,
just waiting for our arrival.
Bowing before you,
we reach for your feet,
the feet that have carried us
in our sorrow.
Our lips dare to kiss them
in gratitude.
Stillness.

Always yours, Andrea