The emptiness lingers.
The loss of a child.
The days march on.
The ebb and flow of life.
There, in the space, lies the ache.
The child we bore.
Their laughter and joy.
Snuffed out so soon.
The veil between heaven and earth so close.
A breath away.
The ache can pull one under.
A conscience choice each day to step forward in grace.
Advent begins again.
4 Advents since he left.
4 Christmases of reaching to hold on.
The tree is in.
Light illuminates this dark farmhouse.
They twinkle and gleam.
Transformed; by light.
When the Season is about more than the gifts,
there rises a deep sense of joy.
Joy that transcends the ache and the missing.
The longing for the Incarnate.
For Christ to be with us and in us.
Our home is not here.
The best is yet to come.
Snow is falling.
The ground covered.
Dirt and mud; disappear.
A beautiful landscape.
Our joy and hope are not in this world.
They rest in Him who gave life.
It is in the One who came for all.
When we look to flesh to meet our needs, or bring us joy, we come up empty.
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
It is when we bow low;
when our hearts are humbled that the cross makes the difference.
It is in the brokenness and weariness that transformation takes place.
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you.
Letting the Holy wash over us.
God reached down to humanity in the form of a babe.
Come to radically challenge man kind.
Come to change us.
God with us Immanuel.
He is with us and in us.
Through Him we choose joy.
We stand on holy ground.
The joy candle is lit.