… a weary world rejoices…
Well, we’ve definitely got the weary part down… because… 2020. Amirite?
Tonight, I sit alone on Christmas Eve for the first time in years. My kids are with their dad. Their presents are wrapped and stockings are full, but they aren’t here. There are no cookies for Santa or carrots for reindeer. It’s just me and Moira Rose… okay, and you too.
But you know what? I’m okay.
In a year that has felt hopeless to me and the weary world as a whole, I have rediscovered hope in a way I never would have thought.
I grew up hearing the Christmas story and almost always glossed over Mary as a person. Historians say she would have been a young teenager when she found out she was pregnant. In 2020, an unmarried, pregnant teenager? That may land you on a tv show! But 2000 years ago, her hopes must have been crushed. I’m sure the life she pictured with her husband (who should have left her upon hearing that news) was swept away in the blink of an eye.
Same, girl.
Well, kinda... I didn't get news that I'm carrying the Son of God or anything.
Growing up, I dreaded the school assignments revolving around my future career aspirations. The only thing I ever wanted to be was a mom. I always obliged and answered with the usual teacher, journalist, or whatever whim I thought of in the moment (marine biologist after reading about the Titanic remains in the 2nd grade). My mom stayed at home and I just assumed I’d do the same. But now I’m a single mom [I still can’t believe that this is my reality] and all hopes of stay-at-home mom life have been swept away.
In a rare, “glass half full” moment for me, I opened my eyes to an opportunity that God has placed in front of me. A thrill of hope, if you will. It took a year like 2020 for me to be able to surrender my hopes to Him in exchange for hopes and dreams beyond my wildest imagination. I literally had the moment where I thought, “why can’t my dreams become a reality?”
I believe with everything in me that God uses even the worst circumstances for his glory and sometimes he lets you fall on your knees so your only option is to look up. Now, here I am, looking up and excited about the future for the first time in a long time.
Perhaps I have been created for such a time as this.
For tonight, I’m watching reruns of Schitt’s Creek* instead of It’s a Wonderful Life. Milk and cookies will have to wait for next year, but don’t think for one second I have lost my hope or forgotten the truth of the holiday. In fact, it is quite the opposite. In the year my hope was shattered, it was also regained.
And my hope for you, dear reader, is the same. May your hope be regained this holiday season, well into 2021, and beyond.
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Happy Birthday, Jesus!