A Thrill of Hope...

"Turn that music off," She spat. Her voice trembled as she repeated herself and added, "I can't stand it. I just can't stand it!"

"O holy night, the stars are brightly shining..." filled the air, welcoming the little ones as they arrived.  The music muted; she turned on her heal and walked briskly into the room to wait for the soon to arrive 3 year old children.

She sat in the only adult-sized chair in the room and she hung her head.

 How can it be Christmas? How can there be happiness? One moment I was content and confident in my faith. Trusting.

I knew the time was near. I begged God for one more day. That voice, that deep and beautiful voice...just let me hear it one more time.

And then He pulled the rug out from under me. That call. Sorrow and rage consumed me when I heard the news. He was gone, without a final good-bye. Without a hug. Without one more 'I love you.' I was on my way, God! Almost there, could you not keep his spirit here for a few simple moments longer? His voice removed from this earth and placed in a perfect body...oh, his voice, will I always remember his voice? The call came...and the world kept turning.

Rage still gnawed at her. She stood and looked out the window; the sun was bright in spite of the cold air. Little bits of snow escaped the sparse clouds and appeared to be dancing to the ground. Flakes settled gently, sparkling briefly before melting into the pavement.

She felt she did not belong here today…in church. How could she show God's love to children? She didn't feel His love. Picking up her purse and Bible, she glanced at the director with eyes that burned with bitter tears, and walked out the door. The director was speechless. She could feel it oozing from the directors wordless face. Pity. Pity that started at the top of her gray streaked head and slinked downward, covering her in a pathetic overcoat of sympathy.

Her Daddy's voice. Her handsome and strong Daddy. No one knew that she still felt like an 8 year old little girl when it came to her Daddy. When did they both grow so old?

Oh, it's true that his once rock hard biceps seemed to go soft overnight. And yes, his voice was a bit shaky when he sang. It didn't change the fact that when he said her name, the sound cascaded from her ears to her heart and she felt so loved.

She wanted to run, but her own weary bones protested the thought. She looked up at the bright blue sky as the frigid breeze brushed past her face and a few stray snowflakes kissed her cheeks.

God, I am so very angry. You have a careless way of loving me. I have tried to trust you. I have tried to serve you. What do I get in return? What good does it do to trust You?

She slipped into the driver's seat, slamming the door and pitching her Bible aside as she tried to take a deep breath and let go of today's pain.

The clumsy toss of the big black leather book caused it to flop open and papers scattered to the floorboard.

She started the engine, turning up the heat to warm her iced toes. Reaching for the papers...

There it was.

Slightly browned with the passage of time.

Edges crumbling. 

Masculine handwriting in beautiful, old cursive letters of faded ink.

It had been tucked in her Bible more than fifteen years.

Her hands trembled as she carefully began to unfold the treasure. She ran her fingers over the words. She had read it countless times.

...I saddled the horse this morning and we took our time heading over to the lake. I watched  an orange and purple sunrise that didn't last long enough.

Christmas will be here soon. I will think of you as you watch the excitement in the faces of your kids. Time passes too quickly; enjoy your family. Enjoy every moment.

"O Holy Night" floated out of the car speakers. The words surrounded her as she wept. She could hear her Daddy's voice as she continued to read, the lines are blurred between Christmas memories of my own boyhood and special moments with you kids. My dad played his harmonica as we tore off the newsprint wrapping to discover our handmade gifts. You and your sisters always had eyes that sparkled with the lights from the tree. The celebrations were different and yet, both celebrated the birth of Christ. The One who came to set the captives free.

Long lay the world, in sin and error pining.

 Till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,

 for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn...

The thick, calloused walls around her heart began to break away and she felt peace. Pain became a shadow as the joy of celebrating the Savior came into focus.

The anger she felt towards God lost its grip on her as she settled her thoughts on The One who set the captives free. His mercy is powerful enough to cover all the ages of time.

Bitterness transformed into gratefulness. Her Daddy will celebrate this Christmas in timeless paradise, at the feet of Jesus alongside her grandfather. Maybe Grandpa will play his harmonica. A day will come when I will join them for the greatest of Christmas celebrations of all.

...Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,

His power and glory evermore proclaim.

O night divine, O night, O night divine!

Maybe this year, I will wrap our gifts in newsprint and tell my grandchildren about Christmas past.