There is sadness so deep sometimes in life that it can’t be put into words. Grief is not just reserved for the dying of people, but for the dying of hope. Most of us as humans get there more than once in our lifetimes. These are the times when pious platitudes or well-intended advice can have the grating sound of fingernails on a chalk board. It would be pious of me right now to claim that Christians never get there because they, after all, have hope that non-believers don’t. But the truth is, many of the people we label as “great Christians” went through times like this. It is what it means to be human.

In the winter of 1994, things were personally at their bleakest point for me. What felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders as a single mother in a very difficult situation. I knew that my two little boys needed stability and peace more than anything, but I seemed unable to provide even that due to the circumstances.

I always tried to make Christmas a happy time for the two little guys. Despite everything, they were sweet children, obedient and very loving, and remembering how much the Christmas traditions meant to me when I was little, I wanted to provide what I could for them. So each year, we put up our secondhand tree. We would go to an ACE hardware store nearby where they had some Christmas decorations, and we would add a few cheap things for the tree. With the handmade ornaments they made at school and church, some colored balls and lights, we made it all look pretty.

I had a very used piano back then, and the boys and I would sing our Christmas carols with the lights out so we could enjoy the tree. Charlie, age 6, played a few simple things on his violin and Sam and I would sing along. I always brought out my Christmas cassette tapes. I had three that were worn to ribbons, one of which was the American Boy Choir, one was Andy Williams. I can’t remember the third one but I bought it at the checkout at the hardware store.

That Christmas was an especially difficult time, and I found myself slowly sinking under the cumulative weight of personal problems, coupled with hosting two daily talk shows – a national and a local – and weekly, a political news roundtable on TV. The sheer adrenaline that job took was debilitating. I relied on prayer and coffee to keep going, but some days it was all too much. I would lie awake, unable to sleep for hours, being so wired from the caffeine I needed to keep going.

Adding to the situation was an aching loneliness. I needed somebody so much to share my heart with, somebody who would not judge me or be shocked that  underneath my hard-driving exterior was someone else entirely. One night my boys were watching the Disney video, Snow White. I had gone down stairs to get my mail and had found another bill lying on the mat with the rest of the envelopes. I literally crawled back up the stairs, unable to keep back my emotion. I sat at the top of the stairs and rested my head against the wall. How was I going to pay the bill?

I could hear the sound of Snow White whose voice came singing through the open door.

“Someday, my prince will come, some day we’ll meet again

and away to his castle we’ll go…to be happy forever I know…

The words seemed cruel at that moment.

I had no idea, sitting there in despair, that there really was hope for my life, so close that it was nearly touching me. It was too dark that December to believe that. But a few nights later, we were admiring our tree when the doorbell rang. The boys rushed down to answer it, and I called out to them not to open it until I got there. It was dark outside, and I had no idea who would be ringing my bell.

On the doorstep that snowy night was a handsome man with the warmest, twinkliest brown eyes. He was holding a brown paper package.

“This is for you,” he said, smiling.

I knew who the man was. How he ended up on my doorstep that night is a long story in itself with many twists and turns. It’s really a miracle. I was so surprised I was speechless. The boys were jumping up and down, telling me to open the package.

Inside was a darling little lamp with a Currier and Ives-type winter scene on the lampshade.

“Merry Christmas!” said the man who soon left with a cheery wave. His name was Tom.

There are no words to describe what my heart did at that moment. When I plugged the lamp in the living room, the holes in the lampshade became  little lights in the houses. It was beautiful.

Not long after that, the same man asked me out for hot chocolate. I still remember it just like yesterday. We stopped at Target to buy wiper blades for his car afterwards. It might as well have been a trip to Shangri-La. I even remember Tom was wearing a dark suit because he had played a wedding just before coming to pick me up.

Tom and I were married the following June.

The lamp is alight in my window tonight. It reminds me that no matter how dark things get, how hopeless they seem at times, God has not forgotten us. We may suffer for a long time, because of our own sin, the sin of someone else, or some unknown reason, but God’s love breaks through in His perfect time.

At the first home we bought, there was a birch tree. One of the limbs wasn’t very strong and a bigger limb beneath it had grown up into the smaller limb, giving it the appearance of holding it up. I was sagging like that limb, at the end of my strength. God miraculously sent Tom who transformed my life and the lives of my boys.

The light of Christ shines into our bleak and dark world. In Him we have the forgiveness of sins and the hope of eternal life. He is the Light of the World. He shines for you tonight, and He draws all in the darkness who will come.

I’m sitting here mulling over the schedule. This year, Tom plays two services on Christmas Eve, one at 4:30pm and a candlelight Christmas vigil at 11:00pm. In the middle of that window, we’ll have a meal, and then we will have our family time together. After that, I will leave the baby to sleep in her crib, watched over by one of her brothers, and will head to the midnight service with Tom. I love the moment at midnight when the bells ring and the trumpets sound and we sing the song that echoed across the Judean hills so long ago. “Glory to God in the highest!”

Sam will leave at 10pm to go pick up a guest at the airport who is visiting us this Christmas. Christmas Day, Tom plays two Christmas services, and we’re having a dinner at around 1:00. Later that afternoon, my sister and brother-in-law, the cousins and and everybody will go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for pie and a roaring fire in their fireplace.

I’m still wondering if I should make a turkey or a ham for Christmas dinner. I’m leaning towards ham. I just made a jumbo turkey for Thanksgiving.  Still thinking about side dishes. It’s going to be a pretty full house. Mary is returning from school near Memphis, and Charlie will be here for dinner as well. To add to the excitement, Emmy has developed a fear of strangers. At Thanksgiving, she had a meltdown with all the new voices and faces around her. At one point she lunged for my neck and hung on for dear life. When Grandpa tried to kiss her, she went thermonuclear. I wonder how long this phase will last for Miss Em, as my other babies didn’t really have that reaction to others. Emmy likes her routine, so we’ll see how things go.

What are your Christmas plans? Does your church have Christmas services? My most treasured Christmas memories as a child are walking two blocks to Mt. Olive through the cold night air, and entering the warm narthex. The candles would be lit at the end of the pews in the nave and the lights on the trees in the chancel would be shining so brightly. The church and the singing were even more beautiful by candlelight. When we moved back from South Carolina, the first thing I thought of was, “I have to be there for the candlelight service at Christmas.”

Christmas is a wonderful time because as we show love to our families and give good gifts and celebrate, we are reminded that the love of God is what sent His Son into this cold, dark world. We love the Lord and others, because God first loved us. It all comes from Him. Remembering that is what Christmas is all about.

P.S. On a random note, I have to mention that one of my favorite books is A City of Bells by Elizabeth Goudge. Goudge is an artist, not just an author, and her portrayal of Christmas in the English village of Torminster is exquisite. You won’t be sorry if you find that book.

Our tree went up a few days ago while my sister-in-law was here. She gave us several new ornaments, and Tom added a couple more. These ornaments are little pieces of art that I enjoy seeing every year. This little church is still one of my favorites. You can almost imagine the sound of Christmas carols coming from the little door and windows. ♫ “Christ, the Savior is born…” ♫

Sammy made this in Sunday school when he was 3. 18 years later, it still gets put up.

We have several little birds and birdhouses on the tree.

Tom bought me a snow couple this year.

There's a new one on the tree this year - Emmy's first ornament came from Aunt Kris!

Kris gave us a family ornament with everybody's name on it.

It’s difficult to believe that it was a year ago this coming week that we learned Emmy was on the way. It is almost surreal to think that 12 months have gone by, and that the baby who was only a speck could already be 15 pounds and growing.

Twelve short months ago, Tom and I were walking through Sears at a mall and the Christmas music was playing on the loudspeakers. We passed through the baby section as we walked to the mall entrance, and I had to stop to look at the little Christmas dresses, as I always have. That night, for some reason, I was teary-eyed and feeling unusually sentimental. I looked at two little dresses, one red and one green. The green one had two gingerbread people on it and the red had two little black scotty dogs. I told Tom, “I don’t think I could make up my mind if we had a little girl. Both of these are so cute.” (I could not have imagined at that moment that one year later, my very own baby daughter would own the red one with the scotty dogs on it.) I kept thinking about how all my children were growing up so quickly.

Within a couple of days of that mall visit, we learned that a baby was on the way. There are no words to describe the shock for both of us, the fear and panic about my health and the baby’s health. Long story short, God brought us through and answered so many, many prayers on our behalf. I thought of all this today as I sat by the Christmas tree this morning. The tree got put up last night and it looks so pretty. What a joy to hold little Emmy, and to think about the love she has already brought us. She likes to rub her hand back and forth on mine while she drinks her bottle. It’s her newest little habit, and the feeling of that warm, chubby hand is hard to describe.

Being a new mother again at my age is a shock. I was staggering around this morning after not sleeping from 2:30 onwards. It was 6:30 as I stripped the baby down to replace her soggy sleeper with a dry one. I wasn’t really looking at her face, I was just getting the job done in a haze of fatigue. I suddenly noticed that Em was looking straight at me, her face wreathed in the most beautiful smile. My heart melted once again. Those cherubs are such work, but all they have to do is smile like that and it is all so deeply worth every moment of the pregnancy, birth and work of caring for that child. (I think that’s why the Lord made babies so cute. It’s how they get away with all the work they create!)

I think of Mary, the mother of our Lord and how she must have felt all of these things for Jesus. The ancient picture of mother and child, that beautiful bond of love was there for them also. Imagine holding the Son of God in your arms, feeding him, changing him, ministering to His needs. Well, I can’t imagine really, but this Christmas, Emily has helped me ponder these things once again in my heart.

Shepherds and wisemen will kneel and adore him,
Seraphim round him their vigil will keep;
Nations proclaim him their Lord and their Savior,
but Mary will hold him and sing him to sleep…

(Candlelight Carol, John Rutter) Listen to this beautiful song here.

Last night, it was nearly dark as I threaded my way through the congested traffic in downtown Milwaukee as workers headed home. Before me stretched a scene not unlike this first video below, taken from the front of a cable car in San Francisco back in 1906. People rushing along on their personal business, hurrying, minds full of thoughts and plans and sorrows and joys. We may have different cars and satellites and GPS and cell phones and Twitter, but kids still do risky things in traffic, little boys still hold their fathers’ hands while crossing the street, and cars still make daring turns (just ask Tom.)

This video was reportedly taken shortly before the great earthquake of 1906. The tower like building at the end of Market Street is the building that housed the ferry company at the time. It supposedly survived the earthquake and big fire that followed. The sun was shining on that street, most of which was soon to be destroyed by flames.

The second video is from the same era in England. Note the young boy jumping around in the beginning of the video. Yes, some things never change. Take a few minutes to visit these amazing street scenes from the past.

I opened my cedar chest (I call it my hopeless chest) today to look for a pair of white leather baby shoes with bells on the toes that Charlie used to wear 22 years ago. I figured they would just about fit Emmy, that is, if I could only find them in my crowded chest. It’s my one weakness in the saving department – keeping baby things – but it is confined to one chest.

What I had in there blew my mind. What in the world was I thinking? I mean, I know why I kept little hand written notes from the children and why I had a couple of worn baby blankets from two of the kids, but cotton toddler training pants? Good grief. What I had intended to be a brief check of the contents of the chest became impossible. Not having looked through things for years, I was suddenly elbow deep in the past. I determined to clean the chest out.

Among the treasures I found were two ladies’ magazines from 1877. You read that date correctly. I picked them up at an antique store about 10 years ago. I’ll write a separate post about those Victorian ladies’ magazines soon because they are fun and fascinating to read. There was also a songbook from before the First World War. That was back when Americans sang songs like, “Dreaming of Home and Mother” and “The Old Armchair.”

There were several pairs of completely worn out shoes from the children. There is something compelling and sweet about worn out children’s shoes. All those miles they traveled, all those happy days already so far away. I found my old journals from long, long ago that were too sad to read, so I set those aside. There were notes from Tom written on the back of old musical scores. (A habit of his.) There were programs from recitals and school plays, a poetry and sketching journal from Sam’s homeschooling years, cross country photos of Charlie, a pencil box my dad used in 1st grade, rose oil from Bulgaria in a little decorative container. My word. Lots and lots of stuff.

Then I picked up a plastic ziplock bag and stared at the dark contents. I couldn’t see well as the afternoon light was fading. What was in there? I opened the zip lock bag and lo and behold, there was my Badlands Bear of 40 years ago! Coincidentally, my mother had recently dropped off 40 some color slides she had turned into prints for me. I had been wanting some of our childhood photos for an album, and she stopped by with them a couple of weeks ago. There, in the photo, was the bear I had gotten when I was 3-years-old and visiting Mt. Rushmore.

Well today, I found him again. I didn’t even know he was in there. I dragged that bear around until he was threadbare. He had come with a cool red collar and chain leash. I was pretty happy with that bear, I can tell you, and I still remember the store where we bought him because they had a real Indian in full headdress standing outside. I took the bear out and decided he looked pretty good for being 40.

Now, evening is here, and after looking through all the things that were stuffed in my hopeless chest that are now all over the bedroom floor, I have suddenly lost my zeal to sort and toss. It’s all going to have to go back in there because it’s all too exhausting to figure out what I can part with and what I must keep. We’ll need another chest before long, because Emmy is just getting started. Those little black dress shoes with the buckles are so cute, I don’t think I can give them away. After all, they were her first…

“And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots: And the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD.”

– Isaiah 11:1-2

Here’s a beautiful recording of Now Thank We All Our God. It was written by Pastor Martin Rinkart during the difficult times of the 30 Years War. He was burying multiple people a day because the plague had hit the walled city of Eilenberg, Saxony where he lived. In spite of all the hardship and suffering, he remained thankful and wrote this hymn that we still sing today.

Now thank we all our God,
with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things hath done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mother’s arms
hath blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever-joyful hearts
and blessèd peace to cheer us;
and keep us in his grace,
and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all ills
in this world and the next.

All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given,
the Son, and Holy Ghost,
supreme in highest heaven,
the one eternal God,
whom earth and heaven adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be evermore.

For a God who answers prayer

For our surprise blue-eyed baby daughter

For loving children

For a loving husband

For shelter and food

For medicine and doctors

For libraries and good books

For beauty in every form—music, nature, art and babies

For hope and encouragement in tough times

For Christian friends

and most importantly of all,

For the forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ.

The eyes of all look to you, oh Lord, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open up your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these Your gifts, which we receive from Your bountiful goodness, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.