To enjoy this holiday season might be crazy and chaotic for some, joyful and cheerful, but to some who have been heartbroken in light of Aleppo, refugees, war, drought and fires...it's been rough, to say the least.
We've been given awareness again of pain in the world that has shattered our peace. Our hearts cry out for those who are without their children and loved ones this year. We see this and all the pain that has happened this year and we grieve for those who are lost.
I find myself asking the question how can we possibly even joyful and excited about Christmas?
Well, I truly believe that:
We can be heartbroken but still thankful.
We can be grieving for those who grieve but still rejoice over what blessings we have.
We can mourn for those who live in war zones, while also thanking God for the safe country we live in.
While I say that, I don't say it lightly.
I am struggling to find my joy as I see tweets of people saying goodbye and pictures of children under rubble. I know there are families right here without loved ones this Christmas, and for some, it is the hardest time of year. I see people who are homeless, fatherless, motherless and I feel helpless to fix it all. I feel sadness, deep sadness, over the lost people this year in shootings, bus crashes, addiction, and war.
We live in a broken world. It is hard to find joy at times.
But Christmas, to me, is about so much more than gifts and holiday cheer (which I've been lacking in light of pain in the world). Instead, it's about something greater.
It's about a young mother a long time ago who gave birth in not-so-ideal circumstances in a stable filled with dirty animals to the man who was promised to be our Prince of Peace in the midst of a broken world.
In this season I see pain, but I also see people's hearts being turned to give, people who don't want to give eleven months out of the year. I see people stop, maybe for the first time all year, to spend time with family and share a cup of cocoa. I see families come together, and churches give to bless those in their communities. I see people loving just because, buying presents for those they may not even know and see bell ringers standing in the cold just to give people Christmas this year.
I see pain. But I see hope too.
So this Christmas, in light of Aleppo and the pains in this world, I hug my family a little tighter, raise more awareness, pray a little harder, give more and breathe deeply as I cling to hope that this world will find peace someday. I cling to the hope that humanity is not lost and hopeless. I rejoice that my heart, as well as so many others, are turned to care for those around them even if it means sacrificing things for themselves. I see glimmers of peace. I see hope.
That is what Christmas is about, after all.
