And there in the dark of our Tampa living room with the thunder rolling … it begins to feel like Christmas. Not as I expected, but the tender mercies and joy of the season finally begin to be felt.
My oh-so-weary heart needed to feel the comfort and joy of Christmas. It had been a not-for-the-faint-of-heart journey to get here. The past few months had brought so many unexpected challenges and hard moments that had consumed my mind and yes, my heart. The truth is these moments made writing a challenge. I just couldn’t seem to get into the right frame of mind.
So many emotions choked the words. Except for my columns, I had stopped being able to write. You see, writing takes emotional energy. Mine was depleted.
Whenever I write, the words come from my heart. The words were tucked inside and I couldn’t let them out. I hid them and their feelings. They were wrapped in a not-so-pretty bow of … well, hurt. I hoped that something would inspire me again. I needed comfort. I needed joy.
Would Christmas bring it? Maybe a gentle Indiana snow or an evening of family fun and fa-la-la. But a thunderstorm in Tampa, while we are in quarantine? (Yep, you’re a mean one. Mr. Grinch … aka COVID.)
Sitting here, in the bleak midmorning of the tenth day before Christmas, with the thunder rolling and rain pouring down … I felt it. Comfort and joy had found their way out from beneath the blanket of hurt. The words, as well as the tears, began to flow. Words of truth. Words of joy. Words of comfort.
It was the song “Away in a Manger”! I heard the words for maybe the umpteenth thousandth time, but this time … my heart heard them! Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay. Close by me forever. Oh, please love me, I pray.
Two years ago, on December 17, I was sitting beside my mother’s bed and holding her hand as she was falling, ever-so-gently, into the arms of Jesus. Grief doesn’t go away. It just looks different. As the anniversary of her passing gets closer, I find myself, again, walking with grief. It’s a different kind of grief. The grief of letting go of what I can’t control.
So much has happened in two years. So much joy, yet so much heartache. Life has worn my heart thin. So many brambles and thistles that my heart has been raked over. My heart is weary. I have so many words still tucked away that I can’t share … maybe someday.
I only know that the thunder is rolling, the palm tree is swaying and I’m feeling Christmas in my heart. The tears fall and the words, that have been tucked away, are pouring from my fingertips.
Oh, comfort and joy I have missed you. Jesus, I know I’m in your tender care, especially when I’m hurting.
As I write, I am picturing myself tucked by that manger and gazing at the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. I need to be near Him.
There’s just something about a simple Christmas hymn and a little thunder to make my heart smile. Jesus is still showing up in unexpected ways. And love? Love will always be the greatest gift of all. It will always be there, though I just may have to go through a storm to find it.
Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.