All the ho ho ho-ing and season’s greetings, Christmas carols, crowded malls and grocery stores, packed restaurants and TV commercials promised happiness and warm fuzzy feelings, a Christmas of unsullied glee. Even the angel’s song, quoted in Luke, promised peace on earth. We had so much to look forward to as we decorated trees and hung wreaths, baked cookies and wrapped gifts. So what happened? Where is all the peace on earth?
Why do we still have a world in which two police officers are murdered as they sit in their squad car? What do we say to their children when they open the last gifts they will ever receive from their father?
What about the families of the school children slaughtered in Pakistan to make a political statement?
The ones beheaded by crazed Isis militants for refusing to deny Jesus, the one whose birth was meant to bring peace?
The ones who have lost a child or spouse to disease or accident?
The ones whose children died too young, live with grave disabilities, or never lived at all?
The one who doesn’t even have someone to grieve?
The one whose family has been desecrated by joblessness, abuse, unfaithfulness or addiction?
What do we do with all the broken pieces of our world, and our lives?
I can only see the manger as the portal to joy if I see the empty cross standing high above.
The child who began with a bed of straw became the man who ended with a crown of thorns.
It is a strange, seemingly twisted reality: He died to conquer the darkness.
He rose as king, opening the door for each of us to pass through the valley of the shadow of death into marvelous light.
My earthly heart still feels pain, and my earthly eyes still see darkness,
but my heart knows the wonder of the manger.
Beyond the stable, beyond the hills of Judea, and beyond that cross
is Life, reaching for you, for me,
to guide us through the portal.
The manger entrance to eternity.
Glimpse of Peace 
It is truly challenging to understand the why’s of the great and terrible things which befall precious hearts and souls around this big, beautiful world of ours. If I let myself sink too deeply, searching for answers, I lose my footing–my What I do know.
Not too long ago I read an essay by the 94-year-old mother of one of my most beloved novelists, Elizabeth Berg. I thought it was beautifully done and will share part of it here, sweet friend:
An excerpt of FROM THE HEART by Marion Jeanne Loney Hoff
“Now sit back in a quiet place. Maybe watching some Christmas lights or candles and from somewhere in your head comes this voice and you know the true reason for this season. The birth of the infant to a loving mother and father wrapped up snugly and placed in a stall in the stable. Think again of all the cultures in this wide world. They too have their customs, their special holidays and traditions. May they all be kept with the joy, peace and respect they deserve. Then finally it may come: peace on earth. Good will to men.”
“Then finally may it come”.
Finally.
Amen.
With heart,
Dani
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Yes, as Ann Voskamp reminds us, joy comes from taking moments thorough out the day to see (around us, or in our hearts) great and small pleasures to be thankful for.
I am so grateful that I know the end of the story, the great “Finally” when the Prince of Peace returns to make everything right. And wipe away every tear.
And I am grateful for you, dear one, and all my gentle readers.
Blessings.
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