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Day by dayWednesday, December 29, 2004
Psalm 96:1-2
"Day after day" might not be so hard for the planets. But for me? Proclaim his salvation day after day? On the off days, if I do any proclaiming at all it's in a pretty puny voice. Newspaper columnist Lori Borgman's mother, whom she loved deeply, died this summer. This is the first Christmas without her. In Lori's Christmas column she wrote about where she thought she'd be this year in the story of Jesus' birth:
I know where I would be this year. I would be outside with the shepherds, warding off the chill, dwarfed by an immense velvet sky sprinkled with stars. That vastness of night gently whispers that man is small, the universe is large, and the plan is grand.
I would be in the field with my new companions Sorrow and Heartache, when the angel would appear saying, "Do not be afraid (but it's what we bereaved do so well!). I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people ..."
That is a comforting place for broken-hearted people to be, in that sliver of night where the angels appeared to the shepherds proclaiming peace on earth, good will toward men. But, this year more than any other, my heart also longs to follow the shepherds to Bethlehem, to stand next to the one who would cast aside the gloom of death and offer second birth and eternal life. This baby Jesus is smaller yet than me, but when I stand beside him I feel my place in the universe shifting into shape, and what fear there was just fades away. Not alone now. Here is someone who will mourn when I mourn, and laugh when I laugh. Why does Jesus love me so much? Because he made you, silly. That's why. Jesus, it's you I need and no one else. Don't let me settle for any less, Jesus. I want to come home to you.
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One day follows the next, pata-pa, pata-pum. The sun rises and the sun sets, and I sit watching. Sometimes quietly, sometimes not. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. There are good days and there are bad days for me, but not for the sun. It doesn't seem to change at all.