I’m not going to lie. It’s been a tough Christmas so far.
Let’s rewind to last Christmas. My sister was in the
hospital in ICU. After being resuscitated twice and spending two months as an inpatient, she pulled through. It was a lot of waiting and hoping and praying.
This year HAS to be an easy one, right? I’m due, right?
Instead, I’m knee deep in crazy.
The litany goes like this. My mom has had eleven hundred
doctor appointments. Mother-in-law is in the middle of radiation therapy for
breast cancer. I am trying to get my new diagnosed laryngopharyngeal reflux
disease under control which includes giving up my precious Diet Coke, cold
turkey. Younger son, newly engaged, is home for the holidays from Japan with his fiancé. My older son and his wife are hosting her family from out of
town for the holidays. We’re having everyone over Christmas night.
That’s enough, right? But no.
Late last week our ten year old black pug, Scooter, started
throwing up. Which started the wheels in motion to have his gallbladder out on
the Tuesday before Christmas. Thanks to our amazing vet and his incredible
staff, Scooter made it through. Great, right? Well, except he’s not eating yet.
Did I mention he’s diabetic? Oh, and he’s blind? But the fight is not over yet.
Scooter is one amazing pug and has
muscled his way back from pancreatitis, thrombocytopenia and gastroenteritis in
the past few years. My husband and I are quickly becoming critical
care nurses, giving a cornucopia of pills and insulin and offering tender
support. Our cherished vet tech offers support via Facebook messenger. (Today’s
speeddial!) Scooter’s deeply entrenched in our hearts and we are willing to try
our best to give him a chance to heal. It’s not over, ‘til it’s over, but it
sure is one hell of a roller coaster ride.
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| Scooter prepping for surgery. |
So what happened to my Christmas in the chaos?
I realized Advent was slipping past me in the blur. I couldn’t
even stay current in my online Advent study (15 minutes a day) but I was
determined to honor the birth of the Christ child in some way.
So I found a block of time this week, wedged between the doctor
appointments and while Scooter was in surgery and went to the Duke Chapel Open
House. The sky was grey when I emerged
from the parking deck and a crisp breeze pushed me and other visitors towards
the looming chapel.
I stepped through the
massive front doors and immediately felt…sanctuary. I felt apart from the
stress, from the worry. I felt part of something bigger than me. Bigger than the
worries that threatened to overwhelm me. I felt the presence of a loving and
welcoming God.
The Chapel was filled with people, chatting, milling around,
taking pictures or sitting and comfortably listening to the massive pipe organ
play carols. I snapped pictures here and there and was especially moved to step
up into the chancel and approach the altar. While I drank in the atmosphere and
the beauty, my mood remained somber.
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| The Altar |
As I worked my back along the aisle back towards the entrance,
I gloried in the jewel tones of the stained glass windows. Though the day was
grey outside, the colors were still bright, though subdued. I stopped here and
there to take more photos.
Then, suddenly, a shaft of brilliant light pierced one of
the windows right in front of me. So bright, my eyes must surely have blinked
at the surprise. I stopped a minute to marvel at the way the colors of the
stained glass caught fire and squinted as I attempted to identify the glowing
images. Out of the many windows surrounding the chapel, that sunbeam shone
solely through the tall slim window depicting the early life of Christ! At the
top – the birth of the Christ child, beneath that, the angel appearing to the
shepherds, then the wise men, and finally the escape into Egypt! Amid everything
and everyone, that stubborn little sunbeam chose that window to bring to life!
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| The Sunbeam |
That is what Christ does to our lives – he brings it to life
– he allows us to see more clearly the landscape of our lives – he illuminates!
He comes into our hearts and fills them
with peace and grace and appreciation – for life, love, and yes, even the chaos
that sometimes threatens to overtake us.
I carried that bright and brilliant moment home with me. And
deep in the night when worries threaten to engulf me, I hope I can bring back
that brilliant moment of peace and grace and let it illuminate my life again
and again.
Our time of waiting is drawing to an end. Come, Christ
child, come!
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| The sun finally shining as I exit Duke Chapel. |
Now the God of hope
fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope,
through the power of the Holy Ghost. Romans 15:13, KJV
