Tuesday With Teri

It was a cold and foggy morning here on the Chesapeake Bay.  We bundled up and headed to our favorite beach for walking, hoping the fog would dissipate in time.  It did not.  Instead, the fog gathered itself up and morphed into a light drizzle.  We continued on.  There is nothing quite like the unique calm of a beach with a horizon obscured by thick low clouds, barely audible lapping of water against a pebbly shore and a deep grey shroud of fog hiding anything beyond 10 ft of your path. 

At first we thought we were the only stalwart beachcombers this morning…then eerily, like a scene out of a scary movie, something dark and ominous moved just beyond us.  As we got closer, the image took the shape of a tall man carrying a bag of some sort.  This is how we met Joe, an elderly gentleman and fellow beachcomber.

He was moving slowly, eyes focused on the ground around him, obviously collecting something from the shoreline.  Curious, we stopped to ask what he was collecting. Clamming and shelling are common efforts of locals just after high tides and storms, but Joe was not common.  “I’m gathering stones and such for my wife, she uses them to make things”, he said as he held out his most recent find, an odd shaped cream colored stone.  His gloved hand shook a bit as he handed his treasure to me. The stone was rather normal looking, but I knew his wife no doubt saw creative potential in the things he gathered.  “Any day I am able, I come out here to look for things for her.”  My heart melted.  I tried to return the stone, but he insisted I keep it.  I placed it in my pocket, certain I would simply drop it once we were no longer within his sight, but as we walked away I kept thinking about Joe.

Since I was not wearing gloves on this cold day, my hands frequently returned to my pockets.  Each time my hand would encounter Joe’s stone.   Absent mindedly, I would run my thumb over the cool, smooth stone that fit perfectly in my palm.  I pictured Joe, braving the wicked weather of the day, to hunt for treasures for his wife.  His words, “every day I am able” kept running through my thoughts.  I have kept this stone in my pocket for these last few weeks.  I just can’t bring myself to toss it.  I can feel its weight each time I put my arms into the sleeves of my jacket…almost eager to put my hand into my pocket to confirm that it is still there.  It is comforting.  On morning walks with my husband, I let my thumb rest against it in my pocket and hear Joe’s words “every day I am able”.  When running errands I place my car keys in my jacket pocket and feel the stone still there…again I hear, “every day I am able”.  

At my local grocery store I overhear this transaction between a kind cashier and the man in line behind me.

Cashier: good morning, how are you today?

Customer: I don’t know just yet, I’ll see what the day brings

Cashier: Well, you’re standing and this side of the ground, so that’s something

I walked out to my car, reached into my pocket for my key…Joe’s stone is still there…”every day I am able.” 

Before leaving that parking lot I took a breath…Lord, thank you for every day I am able…for every day I am able to stand above ground. Help me not take for granted being able to learn, grow, fail and try again, to love and do for others and seek to honor You with every day I am able.

“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer.” Romans 12:10-12

It has been a powerful year, full of challenges and change. I was surprised to find our angel tree topper unscathed when I unpacked her. You see, she too had a year full of challenges and change. She survived another year stored in the belly of our boat as we moved up and down the Esast coast and the Bahamas. In the fall she was uncerimoniously transfered from the boat and joined the dust covered pile of boxes in our storage closet. We are solidly settled in our home on land and looked forward to unboxing all our older decor from the years we were not on the boat…but I braced for the impact. Firstly, WOW…I had no idea just how much Christmas stuff I had accumulated over the years…Second, YAY for most of the items surviving thier years long slumber and neglecful storage. But for me, each year, unboxing my angel is a breath holding moment.

She is fragile, and more so each year. I was fully expecting the need to repair her once again…I honstly would not be shocked to find her a melted, crumbled mess. But there she was…intact and perfect. Well, as perfectly imperfect as always. Her head still tilts at an awkward angle, the super glue necklace is still a startling reminder of past decapitation repairs, her hair is even thiner if that is even possible and her velvet dress is dull and missing more trimmings….but I still love her. I love the way she reminds me of my childhood. I love that she reminds me of the beauty that is found in imperfecton. I love that she reminds me of the impact of the pasing of time. This year I am even more mindful of her fragility. I believe this last year the world has seen the fragility of life on full display.

She is here, awaiting the arrival of our daughter (who traditionally gets to put her on the tree, something that has become progressively more difficult now that her dad can no longer lift her up). After years of residing on top of a small tree made of crab pot wire, she will grace an actual tree. It has indeed been a powerful year…there will always be challenges and change, but it is good to know some things will always remain the same. Here again, the annual retelling of “The Christmas Tree Angel”. Merry Christmas dear friends and family.

I’m not sure where she came from. (update: someone recognized her and informed me she is a Nuremberg angel!) I’m not even certain of her age. (update: As a Nuremberg angel, we probably acquired her when my family lived in Germany when dad was in the Air Force…this would make her well over 50 yrs!)

She sat atop the Christmas tree for many of my growing up years, quietly presiding over each holiday season.  I acquired her from my mother many years ago.

Her gold foil, cardboard wings, once ended in perfect points extending her stature to seven inches.  Now her wing span is slightly reduced, as the tips went from being slightly bent, to folded, until they eventually tore off.  Her dark red velvet dress, trimmed with gold brick brack, fits snuggly to her waist before flowing over her cardboard form.  Her once silky, radiant white hair, now hangs in brittle coils around her shoulders.  A little gold foil halo covers a place on her head where some of her hair has given way to the passage of time.

Her head and hands are made of wax, as is the candle she holds in one hand.  I remember her as a beautiful lady, her face perfect and delicate.  Those qualities are now faded.  Her head, once held high and straight, has melted somewhat.  It now bows lovingly downward and a bit to the right.  Two years ago a significant amount of time and effort was put into re-attaching her long held candle to her now miss shaped hand.  Yep, she’s a bit of mess you might say.  I like that about her.

She doesn’t light up or sparkle, and quite often she is too small for the tree, making her look even more out of place.  But I look forward to her presence in my living room each Christmas.  Late at night, when the tree is lit and others have gone on to bed, I find myself thinking of her and all we have in common.

I too, know what it’s like to have my wings bent and torn.  I know what it feels like when your body gives itself over to the challenges of time.  My hair is no longer silky or radiant, and I only wish had a halo to hide the places where it has become thin.  I understand the sagging of her shoulders and the bowing of her head.  I have felt the weight every mother bears for her family.  I know the need to bow my head in constant prayer.   I love her imperfection.  She’s a holiday reminder that God loves us in our imperfection.

A love full of grace, a savior born to take on the sin of the world, a reason to celebrate, reflected in the melted features and unraveled edges of our Christmas tree Angel.

I have a lot of words. My poor hubby suffers through my long winded tales with well practiced “pretend to be paying attention” tactics. When his eyes glaze over as his attention wanders…he quickly perks up and utters, “and then what happened?” It is effective. I am on to this ploy…but I honestly appreciate that he does not give me a hard time for my over detailed tellings of everyday events, instead he offers this line which allows me to enjoy my verbal journey…there is always more to the story. I love him for that. This Christmas I find myself also asking, “and then what happened?”…there is always more to the story.

God’s creation lay broken, mankind gripped by sin seperating us and our Holy God..”for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” Romans 2:23 Then what happened?

God happened. God provided a way for us to be forgiven of our sins…”for today in the city of David there has been born for you a savior, Who is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:11 Then what happened?

God happened. A baby, arriving in an unusual place, at an unexpected time, in a miraclulous way, was God’s gift to us all. Beyond the swaddling, this child would grow in favor with God and man…He would show the world what grace means…He would guide and make disciples….He would display the glory of God through healing and miracles…He would allow Himself to be crucified…He would overcome the world and death…through His death and resurrection, we can be forgivien of our sins.

“But God showed His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas, the birth of our savior, let us also rememebr the rest of the story…the real reason why this birth matters. Then what happened?

God Happened. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son into the world to judge, but that the world should be saved through Him.” John 3:16&17

Future generations may some day, in the retelling of this very powerful time in our lives, ask “and then what happened?” The answer will forever be the same…God happened.

They really ought to warn a girl…there I was, casually watching a Hallmark movie and minding my own business, when a commercial snuck into my awareness.  Most commercials are just a moment of time when I pause from TV viewing to browse on my phone. The thing is, THIS commercial was like an emotional assassin.  One minute I am in a mindlessly blissful happy place filled with holiday cliches and cheesy storylines, then WHAM, suddenly I am a bit choked up. 

It is all Jared’s fault.  Perhaps you have seen the jewelry store TV spot?  A woman holds a necklace in her hands as she shares about a man who was like a father to her.  This necklace was a gift from her surrogate father figure the day he walked her down the aisle for her wedding.  The moving story comes to a close as the camera slowly focuses on her face and she says, “It was the first time a father chose me as a daughter”.     “a father chose me as a daughter”  I was moved by this stunningly profound utterance.  I am pretty certain the marketing team at Jared’s has no idea just how appropriate this line is at Christmas.  I too know the joy of having a father choose me.  No, I am not adopted nor is my story unique.  You see we are all chosen by God. 

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him in love.  He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in Christ.”  Ephesians 1:3-6

We are God’s creation.  He knew our sin would separate us from Him.  The birth of Christ, his life death and resurrection, was Gods gift to us.  By believing in Him and accepting Christ as savior, we can know forgiveness and grace…in Christ we can stand before God blameless.    God chose us.  This was the joyous news shared to the shepherds in that field just outside of Bethlehem.  God had sent His greatest gift, Jesus Christ as a way for all of mankind to be reconciled to Him.  Truly good news of great Joy!

“And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which shall be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

 Luke 2:10&11

I miss hymns and hymnals.  I didn’t realize just how much until a few weeks ago when I saw one referred to in a sermon.  The words of a familiar hymn popped up on the screen… Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of this earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.  My breathe caught…while the words were not being sung, (he was just using the line to emphasize a thought), I could clearly hear the melody in my head.  My heart was overwhelmed with vivid memories of singing this in church, hymnal in outstretched hands so we could share, our often off-key voices combining to fill the sanctuary with sincere and thoughtful worship.  Long after the service that day, this hymn played over and over in my head.  I still find myself humming it under my breath and replaying it in my mind as I go to sleep when I am restless.

As I sit to write about peace, this song still rolls around in my heart.   Peace, God’s peace, can be found in trusting Him. Keeping our eyes on Him.  Truly, when I keep God as the lens through which I see my world, it changes everything.  Many days, as I sip my coffee while watching the morning news or scrolling online, world events, national statistics, local issues and private struggles all blend together in an overwhelming barrage.  Sadly, it does not take much for me to exchange my peace of mind for anxiety over things in and even out of my control.  But then God shows up, in a simple line from a hymn, on a screen without music, and I am reminded how great a gift of peace He gave us through the birth of Christ Jesus.

The birth of Jesus would bring about the ultimate sacrifice for our sin, He is our redeemer.  God’s peace is not the absence of war, lack of striving, or even quietly getting along…God’s peace is trusting in Him…it is the internal assurance of personal forgiveness and grace and the external confidence that He is in control and always working in our favor and to His glory. 

Sometimes, even the prettiest of tinsel and lights of the season can be dimmed by stress, anxiety and pressure…Please join me in taking a few minutes to soak in the peace God offers us, this week my new favorite Christmas song is this one:

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, Who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Hebrews 12:2

My 10 year old self would be embarrassed.  I once loved wrapping gifts, the bows were the most important part of course.  I am sure this was due to the care and pride my mother took in topping our packages with handmade bows and curly ribbons.  I have a memory (faint now due to time) of actually trying to make my bows look like ribbon candy.  The paper itself was usually carefully picked out to reflect a theme of choice.  Boxes were procured to ensure items could be wrapped neatly…and the tape, lets discuss the TAPE.  Commercials for scotch tape glorified the attributes of “invisible tape”.  They even showed one package with its obviously taped sides compared to the “invisible tape” version which looked as if held together by magic.  Any self-respecting wrapper would choose the “invisible tape”.

This weekend I began my wrapping of gifts which will be sent to family far away. I long ago gave up on crafting pretty bows. These gifts will be crammed into a box for shipping and the days of trying to ship them with protected fluffy bows has past.  My youthful exuberance for neatly wrapped gifts has given way to “eh, that’s good enough” efforts of covering the item.  Sadly, I apparently do not feel compelled to find a perfect box, some things are simply swaddled in gobs of tissue or paper.  As I picked up my tape dispenser (shockingly left over from last season), I noticed it was the afore mentioned “invisible” kind.  Funny, my focus on how my gifts get wrapped has certainly changed, and yet still HOW they are held together stays the same…perhaps just an example of good marketing on the part of the tape maker, maybe just purchase habits engrained over the years…honestly, when you see my wrapping  that fact it is even held together is remarkable, let alone the need for it to be invisible.

As I turned one of my packages over in my hand, surveying my less than stellar work, I thought of how much it was a reflection of the wrapper herself.  My effort for perfect appearances, attention to detail and a carefully curated life have given way to simply holding on for dear life and trying not to make too big of a mess of things.   But I KNOW what holds me together, my HOPE in Christ Jesus. Like that invisible tape, it is unseen and yet still certain.

“For in this hope we are saved.  But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? Romans 8:24”

No matter how wonderful, lovely, good, difficult, uncertain, or scary life may be…Jesus is our HOPE.  Hope will not be found in financial stability, a spouse, a career, things of this world…these things are limited. True hope is found in trusting God even when circumstances are difficult.

This week of advent we focus on our HOPE in Christ Jesus.  This week if you too see messy packages with hastily tied or tangled ribbons, let them remind us….life is messy, we are all a mess, but God loves us no matter our mess.  God sent his Son, Jesus, to gather our brokenness, forgive us, heal us, and to give us a HOPE for salvation.   

This year, as I unpacked our fragile angel tree topper, I felt somewhat prepared for her condition. Each Christmas the impact of her years is unmisable, even more so since our Christmases are frequently on our boat. Though carefully tucked away in a protective box, a boat is no place for such fragility. Once again her head, reattached with glue just last year, was seperate from her torso. A thicker layer of glue now forms an ugly necklace around her delicate neck. Her wax candle has discolored even more and barley recognizable as it extends from her mishapen hand. But as always, and perhpas even more each year, I love her. I love her not only becasue of the sweet memoireis I have of her in her splendid early years, but also becasue with passing time I am reminded of the fragility of life. This year I am mindful of the treasure of each day and thankful for a God who loves us and holds our future. So here again is the retelling of a lesson I learned many Christmases ago as I sat in the quiet of my livingroom, a lesson that I will never forget each year she is placed on our tree in all her glory.

I’m not sure where she came from. (update: someone recognized her and informed me she is a Nuremberg angel!) I’m not even certain of her age. (update: As a Nuremberg angel, we probably acquired her when my family lived in Germany when dad was in the Air Force…this would make her well over 50 yrs!)

She sat atop the Christmas tree for many of my growing up years, quietly presiding over each holiday season.  I acquired her from my mother many years ago.

Her gold foil, cardboard wings, once ended in perfect points extending her stature to seven inches.  Now her wing span is slightly reduced, as the tips went from being slightly bent, to folded, until they eventually tore off.  Her dark red velvet dress, trimmed with gold brick brack, fits snuggly to her waist before flowing over her cardboard form.  Her once silky, radiant white hair, now hangs in brittle coils around her shoulders.  A little gold foil halo covers a place on her head where some of her hair has given way to the passage of time.

Her head and hands are made of wax, as is the candle she holds in one hand.  I remember her as a beautiful lady, her face perfect and delicate.  Those qualities are now faded.  Her head, once held high and straight, has melted somewhat.  It now bows lovingly downward and a bit to the right.  Two years ago a significant amount of time and effort was put into re-attaching her long held candle to her now miss shaped hand.  Yep, she’s a bit of mess you might say.  I like that about her.

She doesn’t light up or sparkle, and quite often she is too small for the tree, making her look even more out of place.  But I look forward to her presence in my living room each Christmas.  Late at night, when the tree is lit and others have gone on to bed, I find myself thinking of her and all we have in common.

I too, know what it’s like to have my wings bent and torn.  I know what it feels like when your body gives itself over to the challenges of time.  My hair is no longer silky or radiant, and I only wish had a halo to hide the places where it has become thin.  I understand the sagging of her shoulders and the bowing of her head.  I have felt the weight every mother bears for her family.  I know the need to bow my head in constant prayer.   I love her imperfection.  She’s a holiday reminder that God loves us in our imperfection.

A love full of grace, a savior born to take on the sin of the world, a reason to celebrate, reflected in the melted features and unraveled edges of our Christmas tree Angel.

It is the fourth week leading up to Christmas. In some homes a candle will be lit as hearts are bowed to consider the theme of Love. While we won’t be lighting a candle, I am filled to overflowing with renewed understanding of God’s love.

This Thanksgiving we were blessed to host both of our moms (from Florida), our daughter (from Texas) our son, his wife and our three awesome granddaughters.  Traditionally, when we manage to be together as a family anytime near the holidays, we celebrate Christmas early. It may be a faux Christmas, but it still gets plenty of attention, which means Christmas décor goes up days before guest arrive (I am not complaining, I would put up décor in October if the hubby would let me).

We wrapped ourselves in the sweet chaos of a house filled with multiple generations. My heart was full! At some point in the festivities, I noticed baby Jesus was missing.

We have two nativity sets. One is from when our kids were little. Its resin figurines have withstood many years of being handled as our kids, and now our grandkids, rearranged the stable scene regularly.  Our other Nativity is from when I was a little girl. For as long as I can recall, my parents allowed me to set up this wooden hay filled stable. I have fond memories of strategically placing each plastic nativity participant. Because of its age, we do not encourage little ones to play with it, but we also do not panic if curious fingers inspect its contents. This was the case when Parker, our 3yr old granddaughter cradled the tiny baby Jesus and declared his name was not Jesus, “His name is Love”.

After a days of feasting, gifting, movie watching and playing I noticed the little manger was bare. “Has anyone seen the baby Jesus?” I called out to the family. Nope. Oh well, I knew it would turn up, so I delayed the search and rescue. On the final night of their visit, my husband established a reward. “$20 to whoever finds baby Jesus!”  The next hour was filled with a hilarious hunt for baby Jesus, pitting grandmothers, grandchildren and great-granddaughters against one another for the prize. Everyone was busy searching…everyone except Parker, who continued to quietly sit at the table playing with her playdough. We knew she was the last one seen with baby Jesus…cue her mommy sitting down beside her and starting a gentle interrogation:

Mommy: Parker, do you know where baby Jesus is?

Parker: no

Mommy: are you sure?

Parker: Yes

Mommy: you played with it earlier, are you sure you don’t remember where you put it?

Parker: Oh, you mean Baby Love? (OOOOOHHHHH a collective understanding filled the room)

Parker: Baby Love is taking a nap in the bed.

Competitive “baby Jesus” hunters rushed the doll bed…sure enough, tucked beneath the bedding was little baby Love….and THAT is how a new Miller Christmas tradition called find “Find Baby Love” was started. (We intend to recreate a version of this each year)

It is also a wonderful reminder to not loose baby Jesus in the midst of Christmas chaos. The greatest revealing of God’s love for us can be found in a manger…not hidden. This week may we all be “Baby Jesus hunters” …. finding God’s love in the beauty of His creation and the grace and forgiveness He offers us through Jesus Christ His son.

“This is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” (1John 4:10)

First, we are safe. For anyone new to our blog, we live aboard our boat some of the year, and we are currently headed South aboard her. As I sit to write this advent post about PEACE, things are not too peaceful aboard our boat. The best news is that none of our current problems put us in great danger, the boat is not sinking or in peril. The bad news is that we are encountering some rather large mechanical issues.  We are aware of a stabilizer that is not working (A big deal when we go offshore as they steady the boat in rough seas), and we have a propeller shaft that is not right (which could create bigger issues if not addressed).

I know of all manner of ways to keep this in perspective: we pass sunken/damaged boats daily on the waterway, we are afloat, we have good weather, we are able to get to a marina safely, we have access to resources to help us, we are blessed to even have this boat, it is not a life or death thing…and so on and so on.  Yet, when our boat is broken, it inevitably leads to a very unsettled state of mind. Visions of “where to go, what needs to be done, who can do it, how does it impact our cruising plan” soon overwhelm our thoughts. It is not the broken systems that are creating the lack of peace though…it is more the unsettledness of it all.

Unsettled…I let that sit for a bit in my head as we discussed our plan A, B, C for dealing with our situation. Blessed to have options, my heart still sank at the loss of our well-planned trip. The not knowing for certain what the next few days will look like, or how it will change in the next few weeks, is a powerful peace stealer. This last sentence makes me laugh as I realize the lack of peace I feel is NOT due to our broken boat. My lack of peace is due to feeling out of control of my situation. To be honest, this in not an uncommon battle for me.

I am sure it is not by accident that I was in the middle of writing this post when all this began to take place. As usual God was nudging me, not so gently, toward Him. Way too often I let my unsettled mind drift toward anxiety as I seek to wrestle my circumstance into my control. In little things, like boat issues, and huge things, like health/family/finances, God has always been in control.  He has yelled loudly “I’ve got this!” in my life through Phil 4:6&7:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request be made known to God.  And a peace that surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

And yet, here I am…still allowing my peace to be stolen away by things of this world. Life does not always go as planned. While this time it is just a boat, I realize this is true for all our lives and in more impactful ways. Today I consider the PEACE we are given through Jesus Christ. He came to redeem us all and by grace, through his life, death and resurrection, we are reconciled to Him. In Him I can be forgiven of my sin, know His love and trust He is in control. This is a gift…peace in my heart that God still loves me even when I stumble, peace in my life even when the world goes wonky. He is greater than me and greater than the world.

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, nor let it be fearful. John 14:27

This week may we all know His peace…Let Him settle our hearts during unsettled times.

Each week, four leading up to Christmas, we pause to remember the birth of our Savior.  Observing advent is a way to keep the focus on the true reason for celebration at Christmas.  It is a time to pause and reflect on my own struggle as a sinner in a fallen world and my deep need for God’s grace, forgiveness and love.  The birth of Jesus Christ is worthy of great celebration when we are aware of our great need and understand His birth, life, death and resurrection is the only thing that meets that need. 

Too often we are blinded in the baubles, bells and bright lights of the holidays and miss the point of it all….you know, like when you host the family for Thanksgiving, celebrate an early Christmas since everyone will be in town, then a few days afterward prepare for extended travel and busy yourself with planning, packing and losing all sense of the passing days as you sip hot cocoa and listen to Christmas tunes…YEP totally me, and the reason I find myself just now (an advent day late) sitting down and looking to God’s Word for His advent message for me.   “Lord, I missed the day of HOPE and now I need to consider JOY. I don’t want to be so caught up in life that I missed the most important parts.”   I looked at my hands folded in prayer and saw the fingers of HOPE interlocked with the fingers of JOY.  I may have missed last Sunday’s focus on hope, but I have not missed the message.

Hope is defined as a “confident expectation”.  It is often confused with wishing, it is not the same.  Oh, a wish is an expectation, but it is not rooted in confidence of completion.  Hope, Biblical hope, is deeply rooted in confident expectation.  This HOPE is what sustains us in difficult days, uncertain times and unsettled futures.  This hope, confident expectation, is found when we place our hope in God.  We can be confident because HE fulfills His promises…always has, always will. 

The world waited for the fulfillment of God’s promise to send salvation.  They hoped for a savior to reconcile a broken world with a Holy God.  In the birth of Christ this hope was realized….our hope was realized.  In Him we find forgiveness and grace.  Believing Jesus is the Son of God, that he died and rose again to pay for our sins, asking for and accepting forgiveness is the salvation of man.  THAT is the good news of great joy of which the angles spoke to the shepherds in that darkened field.

“Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great JOY which shall be for ALL the people.” Luke 2:10

This JOY is more than happiness.  Happiness can be fulfilling, but it can also be fleeting.  Joy is NOT fleeting.  JOY is like a weight lifted, a door opened, a breathe taken, a debt forgiven. It is from inside and not due to our own actions or circumsatnce. Joy is knowing God loves us, forgives us, and has a plan for us and will not leave us.

This week the days may continue to speed past, or perhaps the days will get bogged down under the weight of a chaotic world, but my desire is to let every bauble, bell and bright light, not blind me, but remind me of the HOPE I have in God and the JOY salvation brings to us all.