This morning I decided to have my quiet time in
front of the Christmas tree. I love the soft lights as they illuminate against
the dim room. It seems like a precursor to the soft light of the rising sun as
it penetrates the dark horizon. It’s like I have a head start on the morning
sitting near the tree as the lights reflect in my eyes. A thought passed
through my mind of changing my worship music to Christmas music. I quickly batted the
idea down, not understanding why. Then it hit me. I love Christmas music…I love
it a great deal…I love it for the same reason I don’t love it. With all its
treasured melodies there can be a sad undertone from yesteryear. I decided to
push through my hesitation and I put on a Christmas station from Pandora. The
first song was Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. Immediately, tears streamed
down my face catching me off guard.
The memories of me and my sister Becki giggling as children, at the way someone we knew sang this song...such simple times. Those chaotic times where four little girls ran wildly around the house Christmas morning. Those childhood years that were marked with joy, excitement and as a family who had not been exposed to the loss of one of its residents. As the music played on this morning, more tears flooded as I closed my eyes and could picture Daddy at the end of my dining room table by the Christmas tree reading the Christmas Story from the Bible. He was so handsome in his red sweater with his glasses perched near the end of his nose. More tears streamed as I saw Beth around the table her last Christmas with her plate loaded down with turkey and dressing. She glanced up at me in the kitchen and shot me the peace sign. In my mind I could even smell the aroma of turkey cooking as we arrived at my parent’s house with our little children in tow. This morning…this music…these memories are worth the tears. They are rewards and treasures of the mind and the heart that are so fiercely protected this time of year. But isn’t this the right time of the year to carefully and thankfully remove them from the shelves of our hearts, blow off the painful dust and pay honor to the precious people and cherished moments of our past? As we visit the story of baby Jesus shouldn’t we visit the beautiful stories of our lives?
I know how hard it to visit these memories, especially this time of year but I’m thankful that God comforts our hurting hearts. I’m thankful that the road to Heaven is paved with beautiful memories of our life on earth. I’m thankful for Jesus for without Him I would only be left with memories instead of future reunions. I am thankful for my tears for they are badges I wear proudly for loving those who God placed in my life. We grieve much because we’ve loved deeply but this is not our story ending. Our story ends in the arms of Jesus with our family who went before us surrounding us with a celebration that never ends.
"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance" Eccl 3:1-4.
The memories of me and my sister Becki giggling as children, at the way someone we knew sang this song...such simple times. Those chaotic times where four little girls ran wildly around the house Christmas morning. Those childhood years that were marked with joy, excitement and as a family who had not been exposed to the loss of one of its residents. As the music played on this morning, more tears flooded as I closed my eyes and could picture Daddy at the end of my dining room table by the Christmas tree reading the Christmas Story from the Bible. He was so handsome in his red sweater with his glasses perched near the end of his nose. More tears streamed as I saw Beth around the table her last Christmas with her plate loaded down with turkey and dressing. She glanced up at me in the kitchen and shot me the peace sign. In my mind I could even smell the aroma of turkey cooking as we arrived at my parent’s house with our little children in tow. This morning…this music…these memories are worth the tears. They are rewards and treasures of the mind and the heart that are so fiercely protected this time of year. But isn’t this the right time of the year to carefully and thankfully remove them from the shelves of our hearts, blow off the painful dust and pay honor to the precious people and cherished moments of our past? As we visit the story of baby Jesus shouldn’t we visit the beautiful stories of our lives?
I know how hard it to visit these memories, especially this time of year but I’m thankful that God comforts our hurting hearts. I’m thankful that the road to Heaven is paved with beautiful memories of our life on earth. I’m thankful for Jesus for without Him I would only be left with memories instead of future reunions. I am thankful for my tears for they are badges I wear proudly for loving those who God placed in my life. We grieve much because we’ve loved deeply but this is not our story ending. Our story ends in the arms of Jesus with our family who went before us surrounding us with a celebration that never ends.
"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance" Eccl 3:1-4.
No comments:
Post a Comment