As I sit gazing out the window at the miraculous display of wintery white flakes falling softly, silently to the ground, I am still. Resting in the goodness of the Keeper of the storehouse of all of this snow.
God has been working in my heart in a new way over the past couple of days. I have received His grace. I can sense His presence in this place.
He knows. He sees.
He knows the hurt and the longing.
He knows how I ache for my daughter to be here giggling with her brothers as we set up the Christmas train around the tree.
He knows how much it hurts to hang the ornaments on the tree. He knows that it reminds me that I am another day closer to the day.
He sees how much it hurts to lug out the heavy totes stuffed with lights and ribbon and sparkly, shiny décor. He knows that it all reminds me that she isn’t here. She isn’t here for this celebration.
The time is near. And, she isn’t here, God. We have been waiting for the miracle and we are running out of time… twenty days.
Frantic prayers. Pleading. Tears. Aching. Despair…
Yet, He is here. He whispers in the quiet. He embraces the weary. He catches the tears.
He does not work this way. I don’t need to assign a deadline for His miracle. The miracle is coming. It is coming and, truly, it has already come. In twenty days, we celebrate, we rejoice, in the miracle. The miracle of His birth. The rescuer. The One who came to save. He humbled Himself and left the majesty of Heaven to come here to earth. To come close. To be near.
We will celebrate. If she is here under our roof or if she is across the ocean, we will celebrate. We can trust Him to be near. To hold her close. She is His. She was always His.
Our Hope is in Him. And, that is a beautiful reason to celebrate.