Monday, December 10, 2007

Dearest God,

There are quiet joys filling me. As people learn about the reconciliation occurring in my family they are expressing their own joy. Some have walked this journey with me from the first day. They have witnessed the long, arduous trail of tears. They remember the dark days when they wept with me, prayed for me, supported me. And now they are sharing your wondrous miracle with me. We are surely in a season of wonderment, of thanksgiving and praise, of hope fulfilled and joy eternal.

Someone asked me if I was thrilled to have my daughter coming home after 13 years. I told them I am feeling this quiet joy, not some excitable frenzy where expectations run high. This miracle runs in the middle of other miracles come from the mountain. It is the witness to your handiwork. More of your kindness, generosity, grace. All focus is on you. I did nothing but pray and remain hopeful. I remember telling her once that I would never give up. Whatever good has come has come directly from your hands. This is your story, not mine. Yet, it is my story too.

The truth is that every story needs to be shared in some fashion. And why? Because it is your story, a story of faithfulness, yours, not mine. Your great desire is to draw all your children together, to rid the world of evil, to wipe away every tear, to set every child onto a path of glory where the light always shines, where joy is always expressed, where the saints and angels alike sing praise.

My joy becomes someone else's joy. And their joy spills out to someone else. And theirs to another. The joy spreads 'round the world, capturing every heart along the way. Your message of joy is worthy to be spread to every nation, to every living soul.

As I walk each day this Advent season, I am living in joy for all the subtle moments of Christ's appearance here and there, yesterday, today and tomorrow. I see it in the streets, in our home, the church and shopping mall. I see it in the random acts of light, one person offering hope to another living in darkness. I see the light shining.

The wooden match that I gave out in worship two Sundays ago continues to pop up in strange places and I am continually reminded that you are lighting a fire within me and I have the privilege of striking light into someone else. I like the reminder. In fact I love it. I am spending this Advent season striking light while my own heart burns brightly.

Glorious God,
your fire
feels warm
within me.
How blessed I am
to have your fire burning.
I want no other.
Burn always
within me.
And allow my light
to shine,
striking matches,
lighting fires in others.
Let your light
be the only light
we see,
always.

Loving you more today than yesterday, Andrea