i've come to the end of this day breathing a sigh of relief.
after a late night talk we decided that today, the 20th of november would be the day the memory cloaked decorations would come down from their cold and quiet hiding place. today would be lit with the soft light of christmas.
but plans change. a door opens. coffee is made, cookies baked, conversation weaving two stories together.
and heaviness began to descend as the afternoon wore on.
both of us felt it.
both of us reached the end of the day barely able to breathe for the feelings of...what? what was it that weighed our hearts down?
i've been sitting here in my own cold and quiet hiding place. suddenly unable to remove this cloak of sadness that is preventing my eyes to see the joy in celebrating the long ago anticipation of His imminent arrival.
but, as i said yesterday, He is good.
in the cold, in the quiet where pain mingles with tears and i want to throw up my hands at my failures, at my grief, at my questions and my...brokenness; He sings over me...
to remind my heart of that night, so very long ago, that we string up lights for and sing songs about and drink egg nog to toast and wrap evergreen around to scent...that night was messy. that night was cold. it was hidden in all of it's glory.
His perfection was born into a state of mess.
and that is why my mess is never so big His perfection cannot come near.
tomorrow will come and i will reach up into the cold and the quiet of my attic. i will bring down the boxes that are still full of the air of a wholeness i can never have back and release that air as a offering. an offering of thanksgiving to the One Who loved each one of us enough to come near.
to the One Who can fill me up with a wholeness that no one can ever take away...
(please pause the music to the right to listen...)