Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Season's Tidings

It’s a season of hooplah and parties, trays overflowing with festive savories and sweets. We run around, dinner half-eaten, making each engagement, and meeting responsibilities. Is it any wonder we are all nursing colds? I’m tired. It’s late and I’m sleepy. The weather keeps waffling back and forth between a mild fifty degrees and bracing twenties. Still no snow. Not here anyway.

Sometimes in the city traffic I feel like we are all playing the children’s game “Red Light, Green Light.” Idle, poised on the starting line, the light changes, the cars lurch forward. Race, race, as fast as you can—RED LIGHT! Stop. Wait… Wait for it, and GO!!! And on and on it goes- only I don’t know who wins.

Sunday, as we sang carols of hope and joy at church, I was feeling the heaviness… the heaviness of the news, the heaviness of sin and how the people I love the most, I end up treating the worst. The heaviness of illness and cancer and how they bring down some of the most lovely people. I had to ask God to restore my hope and my joy. Sometimes I just see the weight of others’ sin, the weight of my own sin, the weight of catastrophe and I have a hard time seeing any further. But then the light comes through the clouds, for a brief moment, I see the “why” and small glimpses of the bigger “how.”

For a moment, purpose is restored. Today, at my work, I felt like Queen Esther. Who knows if I have been sent to work here for such a time as this… as I saw one particular client and how her life hangs in the balance right now… I saw that like Queen Esther, I must be smart in how I present things to the powers that be, to help this woman speak for herself. I saw that I must wait on the delicate timing of God. I prayed for Satan to be bound in the situation, that he would not destroy this woman.

I don’t know how we do it. We go back and forth between spiritual battle, and rebuilding human lives, to holiday parties, and cleaning up after kids. We do laundry and we battle traffic to buy a little something to show someone we care. And we share a meaningful glance across a crowded room, and we offer a silent prayer or a gentle squeeze, and somehow, the love of God binds us together, and reminds us that through all the trials, there is hope and there is joy.