12/23/2021
❄️Y'all, 2021 has been another hard year. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks there, both personal and collective. I know I can. The end of it is almost here, however, and I find myself praying that with its closing there will be an end of weeping that tarries, an end to what has felt like unending winter, an end to our present darkness.
❄️I know that of course there will never be a complete end to weeping, to winter, to darkness until we experience the second Advent of Christ-- when he returns as fullness of joy, eternal spring, and Light itself-- but I do long to feel that with Christmas and the start of 2022 we will collectively breath out all that we've endured and breath in joy at the prospect of a new day.
❄️For me 2021 has felt like the longest labor full of hard pains: pains that have brought me to an end of myself, acquainted me with my inability to do this life in my own strength, pressed me to reposition my heart and mind through agonizing movements necessary for the birthing of my true purpose.
❄️At times I've felt like I couldn't breathe, that the pressure was more than I could bear, that this transition would never end. In fact, I'm not even sure at this moment that it is ending. But what I do know is that with God as my midwife, I will know joy in the morning: I will shift from the pregnant pain of labor to the blessed joy of holding what I worked faithfully to accomplish.
❄️My prayer for you, friend, is that whatever your long night of labor looks like, you will on this Christmas cling with hope and tenacity to the joy that comes with the morning, to the joy made possible because of Emmanuel, God with us. 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️