What if I miss it?

What if I miss it?

The beauty of this season marred.
By loss and anxiety and things that really wound.

A young mother in the prime of life.

A loss leaving us reeling.
Barely able to cope.
Most of us.  On some level.
Wounded.
By disappointment and despair.

What if I miss it? 

The merry of Christmas.

Not showing up as expected.
The sorrow and what ifs threatening to crush.
And my own lack blowing up in my face.

Filling this space I call Christmas. 
With noise.
With political correctness.
With busy.

And then.  Something helps us remember.

Not to miss.

The humble birth in a stable. 
Holy God.
Coming gentle at Christmas.
Wooing our hearts.  Whispering love.

A night shimmering and we all shivering to remember glory coming down.

And then the coming off the tree.  Years later.
Shivers again.
Holy God.  Suffering.
And then.
Announcing grace.  With fanfare.

Answering the pain in our hearts with a love song.

So maybe this Christmas.
The tree's not up.  Cards not sent.  Maybe not feeling like it.

But still.
Doesn't have to be missed.

Because of Christmas; the manger scene.
Because of Easter; the tree.  And then.  An empty tomb.

And so everyday.
A relationship with Holy God.

Our beautiful sweet friend didn't miss it.
And though we miss her.

She.  Beholding the glory.
Of which we only get a glimpse.  Right now.

Because of.

A shimmering night when everything changed.