By JANET HART LEONARD
From the Hart
“A thrill of Hope, the weary world rejoices.”
Oh, how weary the world is today. How weary I am. It’s been a hard year.
As I write this column it is the one-year anniversary of my mother’s passing. I woke up with my heart hurting. My heart just knew.
And yet … I refuse to allow the world to dampen my spirits or my hopes. I refuse to allow grief to grab hold of my heart and strangle the joy that is possible … even in the midst of my grief.
A few days ago, I walked down the main aisle of Meijer. I stopped and glanced at the top shelf that held all kinds of Christmas candy. There they were, stacked ever so neatly in a row. Boxes of chocolate-covered cherries with a sign telling me they were “on sale.” Two for four dollars. I was reminded of all those years when a box was tucked under our tree. “To Bug, Love Dad” – who knew love could cost so little?
I believed the gift that my dad began giving me, ever so many years ago, would no longer be given after he passed. I was wrong. My mother continued the tradition. Last year, after my mother’s death, my daughter, Emily, tucked a box under the Christmas tree. How could such a small gesture mean so much?
It’s not about the candy (which is liked by very few people in our family). It’s about the love that it represents. It is simply given from the heart, and if we are lucky – no, make that if we are blessed – then we will continue to receive the love, long after the one giving it is no longer with us. How? Because we remember the love.
Love is wrapped in the memories, to be revisited, until we draw our last breath. That, my friends, is what the spirit of Christmas is all about.
Love never fails. It just keeps on giving. So many times, my mother reminded me of that scripture in I Corinthians 13.
God sent His son, Jesus, to save the world. Save us, not only from our sins, but from grief and sadness. Jesus was the Savior who would change the world. He will change us … if we allow Him.
Jesus didn’t come as expected. He came as a baby, born of a virgin, in a stable. A baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, God’s gift to the world. In this world, He told us, there will be sorrow and pain and troubles. Yet, we will not bear the hurt alone. He will be ever with us … because of Jesus.
I can still sing “Joy to the World” even when my heart is breaking. I can see the finality of death, or I can see the hope of heaven. It’s my choice. I choose to see the hope of heaven.
This Christmas, my voice and my heart are singing loudly about the thrill of hope. My mother taught me about that hope for 65 years.
I cherish the memories of Christmas at the little Nazarene Church on the corner of 10th and Grant streets. The children’s program would be on the Sunday before Christmas. I was maybe four years old when I recited, in front of the congregation, my first piece that I had memorized.
I still remember: “I’m the littlest one in my family, but I can do my part. I want to live for Jesus and have Him come into my heart.”
I am the oldest member of my family (except for my husband) and I still can say those words with conviction.
You see, there is joy in my world, even in the midst of its bleakness and sorrow.
For unto us a baby was born in Bethlehem. There is still joyous good news. We can still hear the words “Fear not,” for there is peace and goodwill to all men … and women. We just have to keep seeking.
I’m turning up the volume on the radio and I’m singing. “A thrill of hope, this weary soul rejoices.”
I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas! May you feel the hope and the joy in your memories. And maybe, just maybe, a few of you will find a box of chocolate-covered cherries under the tree.