to search for Him,
to open our eyes to the light of that star that burned so brightly 2000 years ago.
and my middle one, the one who knows no middle ground,
the one who is rarely quiet,
yells out from the seat behind me,
mama! was Jesus called Jesus Christ when He was a baby?
and i pause, because i'm pretty sure of the answer, but i don't want to give the wrong one...
when i look out my window,
and i lift up my eyes...
and i see Him.
and you can argue that my eyes had landed on the path of 2 jets crossing.
and you would be right.
the deep blue of a winter sky was full of the echos of the airplanes that are bringing loved ones home.
but He uses the simple
and the weak,
to declare His amazing glory,
and how can i deny that He spread His message across this beautiful sky?
this season we celebrate is more than the empty cradle.
more than the empty blood-stained cross.
more than the empty tomb that stands there, defying death.
it's all about Him and the full life He offers.
so lift up your eyes, sweet reader of mine.
like the wise men of old, come near to His Light.
He is so very close
and He loves you so much.
and who knows what He'll write on that sky above you for your very own eyes to find...
