I spent some extra moments snuggled under the covers on this brisk December morning, lingering in prayer for a couple of young women. I concluded by asking God to blanket them with his Hope, the only really sustainable hope. It hit me that this was my exact prayer for the entire world as we mark the last few days of a long, arduous 2020. 

I’m reminded of Jesus‘s words in the thirteenth chapter of Luke: how often I have longed to gather you under my wing. (my humble translation) He longs to cover us.  

Cover us with his:

Love

Protection

Grace

Blood

Hope 

And that’s just the short list!

                                                                                                                                            

This present malaise and yes, even despair is working hard to suffocate our weary world, yet, our long-awaited Messiah longs to wrap us in his tenacious Hope. You know, the kind that shines brightly on his faithful promises, the type that drowns out chaos. 

Hope of Glory, wrap us tight!

 “Zechariah asked the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.””

“The angel said to him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news.”

‭‭Luke‬ ‭1:18-19‬ ‭NIV‬‬

Something struck me in the very first chapter. 

 Zechariah’s human response to what seemed impossible was greeted with greatness and power!  

“I am Gabriel and I stand in the presence of God!”

Nothing is impossible with God!

The Lord has done this for me...In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people. Luke 1:25

Mostly the women whispered about her condition. Elizabeth, up in age, knew and still tried to live out the blameless life of one married to a priest of the LORD. But she could not hide her empty quiver and probably wrestled with the same lie born not of God: “what disobedience left me barren?”

Shame, we silently carry it, often throughout our entire life. Perhaps a poor choice, the consequence of someone else’s actions or a sad self-fabrication...yet, we quietly render it a permanent albatross. 

 Try to imagine Elizabeth’s relief, joy, rescue as an answer to a worn prayer at last grew in her womb. No more speculation of past sin...Elizabeth, now dressed in anticipation, freed from shame! 

Some of us have been covered in the enemy’s disgrace far too long. No past or even present is too big for the Lord to redeem; nothing is impossible for the Most High.

Rejoice this Advent in His favor!

Thanksgiving during a pandemic...a bit tricky and scary. Only four of us gathered at the beach after a week of isolation, testing and a few prayers. So far, so good.  Our time was lovely and for a spell, it almost seemed normal. I played with Lucas and the three dogs and even got to watch some KU basketball.  I’m so thankful for our time together. 

We had a frank discussion regarding Christmas plans as we figure cases will grow after Thanksgiving gatherings. I really want my family to live with  some normalcy during the holiday season and to not worry about me contracting the virus, so we probably won’t be able to celebrate as a family this year. At least, not in the traditional sense. 

It hit me hard this morning; I struggled to get out of bed. How many Christmases must I celebrate alone?  It doesn’t help that this is the anniversary of Rob’s last week on earth. You would think that after seven years, grief would be lighter. Perhaps, it’s this never-ending isolation.

 I had no plans to drag out the Christmas boxes and decorate for one person, but I decided to get out just a few things that held some special memories. Ten hours later, I managed to decorate three trees and the kitchen! Because the grands won’t be running through the house anytime soon, I was able to trim one of the trees with Rob’s blown glass ornaments, a collection of birthday gifts from me each December 18th. 

Good decision to get up and carry on! I love being  surrounded by lights and Christmas memories.  My advent (Jesus Tree) is ready for tomorrow: December 1st. I plan to read one chapter a night of Luke; 24 chapters will take me through the entire Gospel by Christmas Eve.  Last year, I bought some deeply discounted white Christmas balls for a project that never happened, so I’m going add one to the tree each evening after my reading. By Christmas, my tree will shine bright and so will my heart!

I’m determined to fill this pandemic Christmas with joy. No COVID-19, you will not steal Christmas!

 Am I too early to unpack that evacuation bag I put together as we watched Hurricane Laura grow in the Gulf last month? I’ve already snatched out my camera to capture Lucas’s first birthday. As I dug through the mess of essentials this morning,  I picked up this marriage journal I kept for Rob as a gift on our 25th anniversary.

If you know anything about me, you know few books remain closed; before long, I was reading entries. One struck me in particular. Written shortly after we lost both of Rob’s parents, I wrote of his emotional care for his parents during his mother's terminal cancer and then, his father’s deep grief. Long distance care of aging parents, laden with guilt, is a very difficult beast. Rob’s sister and brother-in-law lived much closer and assumed most of the physical care; we were so grateful, yet, aware of it's toll on them.  It truly grieved Rob. Yet, I fondly remember, as I noted in this particular journal page, his almost nightly calls to them as he drove home in heavy Katy Freeway traffic. Even after a long business day, he’d make his love known via a speaker phone. Then, he would report to me. It was often hard to read Rob’s emotions, but usually not after a particularly hard call.  

Much like so many of us who are isolated from our loved ones during this pandemic, Rob struggled with the desire to communicate with his parents and the demands of work and family. It took great effort to stay connected. I so admired him for his faithfulness.

I urge each one of us to invest in our senior adults during this difficult time. Even a five minute call changes the landscape of their week. 

Recently, my small group discussed what ‘true religion’ looks like in 2020; it’s taken on a whole new look as we worship outside of our comfortable church walls. Weeks of hunkering down in our homes often shrink our ability to see and reach a hurting, lonely world. 

Pure religion... looking after the marginal, the grieving, the lonely and isolated. 

My dear Rob, you understood James’s weighty words. I love you for that.

 

I allow myself a small pocket of sadness each anniversary and usually a pep talk about moving forward. I kind of linger, not wallow, in my blanket of memories and emerge on a brighter, hopeful side for the future. But, toss in a pandemic and twin storms eyeing the Gulf Coast...plus my inner war as an enneagram 6 personality laced with post-Harvey trauma and you have one mess of a girl. 

When paralysis and anxiety hit, I’ve learned to DIVE head first into the Scriptures. Stop everything and sit in them until peace and calm returns. It’s not an easy discipline with preparedness lists swarming around in my mind. 

But, poring over Scripture is always an adventure and often comes an Edison moment when Light shines on a passage. 

I wasn’t expecting this one:

Psalm 84:11

Hear it from the New Living Translation.

For the LORD God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory. The LORD will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.

Life will always have a series of storms in the queue, but storms, meet my great God!

He is my Protector...Period! Battle for my mind, meet my Commander; He is my Grace!  He will pick me up when the lies press heavy and He will never withhold his goodness; I only need to offer my heart. He is the Son that calms the storm. 

        Yes, good gifts are lining up as well.

        

 Usually I make a plan for this worst week ever. My August plans for Yellowstone were dashed by this incorrigible virus; profound loneliness seems my current destination. This go-around with my ugly enemy is crippling. I flirted with abandoning all rational thought; I even began equipping my small SUV for a solo trip to wherever. 

After realizing my ensuing  insanity, I unpacked my car, then unloaded my pain at the waiting feet of Jesus. Oh, when will I learn to begin there?

So in the cool of this morning, I slipped on my running shoes and earbuds and started over.  I’ve been building a playlist for the hardest messes; Steffany Gretzinger tops that list. 

“You're always moving in the unseen                            The breath You exhale sustaining me

Before I call, You know my need
You're always going before me

I'm confident Your faithfulness will see me through
My soul can rest, my righteousness is found in You
With every moment left, in every borrowed breath, let this be true
That all my heart, for all my life, belongs to You

Your laughter scatters my enemies
You give me joy for my mourning
You lift my head so I can see
All of Heaven surrounding me

I won't win this battle with the strength in my own hands
You're the mountain-mover and only You can
I won't build my life on sinking sand
You're my hope forever, the rock where I stand”

I walked a little further this morning...at times almost a respectable jog...head lifted a little higher. 

Truth is, the longing for human interaction has no end in sight, but neither does His Presence. Jesus remains my one faithful, confident traveling companion.