stille nacht

We had our first snow a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a surprise for us, though we both stood in awe and stared out the window as large flakes came falling down. It's still novel. It's still so fresh for us. And we both find it exciting, that first snow of the winter. There is an all encompassing stillness that happens when the dirty, rubbage laden streets get purified for a breath of time, and traffic slows, and people stop to watch their step. And green growing things cease. And All is white.

 Even though it is certainly a known fact that Jesus was not born in December, I find it a perfect season to celebrate and remember something so precious, so amazing, so humbling, and so earth shaking.

It is as if Holiness has stepped on the earth, and our response is the gravitational pull to just be... still.

 In late January of 2008, my health decided to take a left when I wanted it to go right. Months of doctors and tests followed. And then remission. And then flare up. And then strength. And then weakness. The past few months have been weak ones. I grow easily tired of weakness and I struggle so much to be a super hero woman writer artist friend wife mentor (and so forth). I can't do it right now. I can't job hunt. I can't create coherent sentences well. I can't pursue friends. I can't cook for all. I can't keep the house as clean as I want it. I can't heal her wounds. I can't make it all better for a friend.

 After a long talk with my amazing husband, we concluded what I can do. I can be still. I can heal. I can reach out where Jesus calls me to reach out. I can slow down, tread carefully down the snowy path. Watch my steps with care.

 I've noticed a remarked change that has begun as I slow down. I've stopped struggling. I've stopped trying to be super me. And through this process of letting go of all that I can't do right now, I can now see how Christ is moving in my life and the lives of those around me. I can see that God is working in my loved ones' lives. And I can see that I don't have to do it all or hold it all together in my hand.

 The work of mending broken hearts, the work of providing, the work of words and profundity, the work of truth and of grace, the work of healing began all those years ago in a stall among farm animals and the simplest of people.

All is calm. 

 There is profound peace in trusting Christ with burdens. There is hope knowing that all the mistakes and wrong doings I have racked up through the years don't keep me from God because of what Christ has done.

Glories stream from heaven afar.

 There is rest knowing this is not all there is. The noisy cacophony will one day be silenced and the grime of this world will no longer be when Glory of Glories, the Holy of Holies streams down once more.

With the dawn of redeeming grace.

There is a sigh of relief that we don't have to redeem ourselves.  We don't have to worry that God won't forgive us because of the work of Jesus who carried that burden for us.  And it started all those years ago with a humbled virgin and a kind, strong young carpenter both called by God to parent a baby not their own,  A baby whose life brought us redemption and showed us grace.

All is bright.

What joy there is! Even in the pain.  Even in the days when exhaustion is so great that I don't have energy to brush my hair.  What Joy there is when I can't be and do all that I want to be and do.  This joy, this brightness comes from a void of despair, it comes from the wide open gates of Hope, from the radiant beams of His Holy face.

The days have been hard but they are getting better.  Something that improves them and kind of makes the pain lose some of its potency is letting go and being still.  My, how He makes this burden lighter.