Peace on Earth, goodwill to men

I spent yesterday with a heavy heart.  A tragic accident happened in our town, a 12 year old boy was killed in an auto-pedestrian accident.  Although I don't know any of them, my heart ached for the boy's family and friends as well as for the driver.

On the way to work, I listened to a podcast from Emily P. Freeman.  As usual, it spoke to my soul.

Babies come into the world as little reflecting mirrors of the grown ups around them. The fact that they exist brings out the best and also the worst in us — the round the clock care, the constant dependency, and availability. You would think a little baby would give us this great opportunity to show off how strong and capable we really are, how able we are to care for them. They are so small, after all. And we are so big. 

As it turns out, babies do the very opposite, revealing our weakness, our neediness, our limited supply. They show us everything we are not, all the things we cannot do, balance, hold, finish, or remember. But they also reveal beauty, pull out our best when we think there’s nothing left, and compel us toward them, again and again, just by their presence in the room.

This Emmanuel is no different. He reflects for us our neediness and our weakness as well as our capacity for hope, love, and redemption. And the wonder of the story is that even as he exposes the need, his is the presence that meets it.

I kept thinking about it all throughout my day.  I thought about the juxtaposition of tragedy and sorrow against the swirl of happy activity at the school.  It was the Christmas program and parents were invited to come and watch.


The children were thrilled with their performances and waved happily at their adoring parents who were proudly taking pictures and video and waving back.

Well, not all the children were thrilled.

There was the kindergartner completely overwhelmed and in tears.  There was another kindergartner who had lost his paper buttons (they were snowmen).  I put my arms around a sobbing little boy whose mother hadn't come.  "She promised she would and she didn't!"  He's an unkempt little boy with dirty clothes and black under his fingernails.  I don't think it's the first time his mother has let him down.  I hugged another tiny girl who had fallen at recess and although she'd been given a bandaid, she was hurt and crying.

Sometimes even a bandaid doesn't cure us.

I thought about Christmas and how Christ came for all of us.  He came for those suffering from tragedy as well as those happy children whose parents show up with smiles and support.  He came for the disappointed and the hurting and the joyful and for everyone in between.  For the ups and downs of life that all of us have had and will have, we have a Savior.  

God is not dead nor doth He sleep.

More from Emily P. Freeman:

May we remember Jesus has come, not for the sake of a good story but for the sake of our soul. May we not push aside our own longing, heartbreak, or thrill of hope, no matter how small. 

May we allow the miracle of the life of Jesus to be born in us again today...