God With Us

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and with it the beginning of introspection and gratitude.

A new holiday has been ushered in. One so full of hope and expectation that it's hard to understand how it gets overshadowed by shopping, and Santa, and all that glitters. But, of course, I'm guilty of that, too.

Don't we love shiny things?

Things that sparkle and glow and shimmer?

Pretty things.

Only this year, as I bundle my babes and decorate the tree and sway to Christmas music in the kitchen, my heart is burdened.

Another white police officer not indicted for using force that resulted in an unarmed black man's death.

Another injustice.

Another case of racial inequality.

And then there's my babies, and their broken hearts.

Our big boy became unresponsive during Thanksgiving dinner. I could see he was sad. I know he missed his family. There's no "getting used to" living with people who are not your own.

He breaks my heart.

And the little one...the little one sees his brother being sad, and wants to be heard. Wants to ask questions, and tell stories, and not be forgotten.

He's not mature enough to verbalize his own feelings and confusion. But it's there. Every now and then a random thought will escape his lips and this tiny child will stop me in my tracks with the very big things he has rumbling around his young mind.

These children should not have to contemplate a parent's future release from jail.

Or live with the memories of neglect, abuse, and hunger.

They shouldn't be torn in half, or fourths, trying to figure out who their heart loves most.

They shouldn't have to carry around guilt and betrayal for being happy and loving us back.

But they do, and they will for some time.

This, the season of giving, of hope, of celebration and cheer and glad tidings and the Gospel...This season, this year, needs to be one of reconciliation, redemption, salvation; Not just for me, but for my children, for their family, for this country, for the world.

We are lost and hurting and in need of a savior now more than ever.

And while Santa is fun and Bing Crosby's crooning from Pandora is charming and all that glitters catches my eye and calls me away, that baby in the manger will have my heart and my devotion because He is the only one who knows this burden we all bear, this road we walk, these lives we live.

He lived it, too.

He knows our pain and sees our despair and hears our cries for help.

And He has answered. He has heard. He is Emmanuel.