Clouds and foggy mist filled the air early yesterday morning. At dawn, the sky lightened, but it was a uniform lightness with no hint of where the sun was. The lack of an obvious sunrise left me some time (since I didn’t have to go take pictures of it), so I decided to write.
Somewhere along the way, I began to think of my friends who had lost their mother this past fall, and now face their first Christmas without her. That led me to the memory of losing my own mom, without ever being able to say goodbye, just nine days before Christmas, three years ago.
Like a stone skipping across the water, my mind skipped from Christmas to Christmas back through time, and a little while later, I was dripping tears onto the keyboard. Christmas is rich in sensory experience and social engagement, and so those memories stand out sharply. Sometimes the experience of Christmas, for those who grieve, can be almost unbearable.
A flash caught my eye in the direction of the window, and I saw shadows flit across the drawn curtains. Where there is a shadow, there must be a light source, so I ran to the window and found the sun had become visible!
Flocks of birds were flying from one side of the yard to the other, where they would remain for a minute or two and then fly back to this side again. I have no idea what they were gathering on the opposite side of the yard, but on this side, they were eating crab apples.
When I looked higher into the sky, I found that the fog was acting like a lens and the brilliant sunlight was refracted into a million tiny streams across the sky. The light was not diminished one bit; rather it spread like beams from a radiant jewel.
Yes, this world is dark, but darkness is just the absence of light. As I was reminded during our church’s Candlelight Christmas Eve service, even just one small candle can overcome the darkness. That one little light allows us to get our bearings and figure out where we are. Shadows cannot exist in the presence of light.
I stared up at the luminous object, and felt the warmth of it on my skin. Sun on skin is so comforting! And it looked so beautiful, that sky photographer that I am, I ran to get the camera. What I captured was this:
Then I looked to the tree, and shooting into the sun, captured this.
But what kind of bird was it? I maneuvered so that the lens wasn’t washed out and found this sweet little one.
Robins usually migrate, but this one stayed for what? The crab apples? Tony reminded me that we had left the smaller apples on this tree expressly for the wild things that forage in the winter, and so here was a flock of them, gracing us with themselves on a foggy day turned bright–which just happened to be Christmas.
I remembered Jesus’ words:
“Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat,and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?” Matthew 6:25-26
I hope and pray each one that reads this can find the source of life and love and joy in Jesus Christ, the Creator of the whole world, the One Who holds all things together. He descended to earth and was born as a newborn child and showed us the path through this life, beyond death, and into eternal life. He has proved Himself over and over, and if we can forget ourselves, we will be able to trust Him. If you haven’t met Him yet, ask Him to show Himself to you, and He will. He promises that if we seek him with our whole heart and soul, we will find him. (Deuteronomy 4:29)
On yesterday’s Christmas morning, he brought me joy through my tears, and reminded me that I have nothing to fear. And my loss is only temporary, for I will see my loved ones again!
Merry Christmas all year long!
The Fullers Four 