You never realize how much you need the body of Christ until you find yourself quarantined behind the front door at Christmas.
Holiday festivities came to a halt two weeks ago and the Christmas rush ended before I even had time to pick up the last minute push.
Thankfully, all my decorating and shopping were done two weeks prior to Thanksgiving, but due to the circumstances behind the front door of December, the remnants of the holiday will be salvaged early January, though minus a bit of Christmas magic.
Hardships are put into perspective against the backdrop of those recent tornadoes which decimated complete towns, dreams, lives and any hope of Christmas.
So when I start to feel sorry for myself for the grandchildren and family I won’t be gathering around the dinner table with on December 25, I have to remember Christmas is an attitude of the heart, a child like faith that can be celebrated every day of the year.
‘Tis the season to count it all joy; the body of Christ has been the hands and feet of God these last two weeks outside our front door at Christmas.
You realize how grown-up your daughter has become over the years, showing up with grocery pick ups, video calls and bringing the grandchildren to smile at me through the front door window. Kissing their faces smeared against the glass, both begging me to open the door and let them in is almost too much to bear.
Even Santa took the time to lift our spirits, as grandson Ethan sat in his Texas lap while visiting his father.
I’m sending Mrs. Claus a thank you note for this one.
Our son ‘n love goes above and beyond by bringing us comfort things not on the list, things he believes might bring us joy during these hard times.
Our other children have been just as attentive with their gifts of chili, consistent calls of concern and care. We parents stand back and praise an almighty God for their maturity in honoring their parents when we need them most.
Such are the friends we’ve worshiped together with over the last thirty years who have stood outside our door as ambassadors of Christ, handing out hope during our hours most bleak.
You realize how blessed you are to have a Pastor who calls along side his wife who drips of true love in her encouragement.
How do I say thank you to the intercessory team who answers every text message with a powerful word of prayer.
Our life group leaders have stood closer than any brother; they are an extension of family and we can’t imagine not having them in our life.
David’s buddies have taken turns checking in on their friend; passing on the word to the other friends in their circle of influence.
My sisters have been an extension of our mother, reaching out in her simple ways had mom still walked this earth.
My older sister sends her heartfelt life verses taken from the trouble waters she’s navigated through the years, for which I find great comfort.
The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth and delivers us out of our troubles. Psalms 34:17.
My younger sister’s compassion gift lines the bottom of our tree with all her heart can unload. Her generosity will never find her lacking in life with the seeds she has sown throughout the years.
Standing behind the front door at Christmas I look back and remember mother never complaining when the holidays found her behind closed doors herself.
Whatever God allowed and provided, mother seemed to capture the spirit of the season with her daughters looking on. But I only imagine when we left, a mother longed for Christmas in her own home, around her own tree with her kids and grandkids nearby.
Mother is my inspiration to harness the joy of Christ this Christmas, even with the remote possibility of David and me spending the holiday apart.
Then are the late night text messages dear friends send because they can’t sleep and want to inquire of us no matter the hour. Lord, thank you for friends who shoulder the burdens, lighten our load too heavy to carry alone.
My youngest granddaughter Cova appeared in my dream singing about the power of Jesus, for which I woke up thanking God for this small gift through her.
I opened the dearest Christmas gift just yesterday when the telephone rang. A dear friend hosting a holiday gathering called as a group to encourage me after I unknowingly encouraged them thru an old blog of mine, “Countdown to Christmas Miracle”, for which was read at their table.
Only you Lord could orchestrate this moment of surprise. You never realize the power of words, even words spoken years ago. God’s words through us never go out void.
Without rush these beautiful ladies spoke a Christmas prayer over us through the phone, a gift I treasure more than they know.
David and I have been caught and swept away in the waves of the body of Christ; their hands and feet of generosity have brought a deeper meaning to our front door at Christmas.
Even after all of this, my heart keeps returning to those Kentucky towns minus so much this Christmas.
The news captured a man in the midst of his personal devastation, sitting at the remains of his piano giving God his Christmas gift of song:
There’s Something About That Name
By Gloria Gaither and Bill Gaither
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, there’s just something about that name. Master, Savior, Jesus, like the fragrance after the rain. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, let all heaven and earth proclaim. Kings and kingdoms will all pass away, but there’s something about that name.
Yes, there’s something about that name.
Countless times over these last two weeks I’ve called on the name of Jesus to intervene on my husband’s behalf while praying in the hospital parking lot for him.
I must tell you the peace that passes all understanding when you call on the name of Jesus.
Jesus was born this Christmas; for you and for me.
Might we all find a moment to personalize this powerful song at Christmas.
As Jesus came to give us hope in whatever circumstance December finds us in.