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What do you remember as your best Christmas? Was it a childhood memory, a memory from your teen years? In the days around Christmas, we often remember Christmases past, sometimes with great fondness. Sometimes we wish we could recreate the magical emotions of our favorite past Christmas.

And sometimes, we remember Christmases filled with loss and grief. A dear friend of mine lost her son in 2012 right before Christmas. For her, Christmas might always be a time of grief, and certainly nostalgia.

And yet we move on, some of us relishing every Christmas tradition, others just going through the motions. It is true that few of us get to experience a perfect Hallmark-like Christmas. But most all of us experience Christmas with nostalgia.

Nostalgia is delicate, but potent. In Greek, it literally means, “pain from an old wound.” It has been called a twinge in your heart far more powerful than a memory. It is a feeling of a place where we long to go again.

The Christmas season does bring us feelings of nostalgia. But the alternative is to feel no emotion at all. And while we remember the birth of the child we know as the Prince of Peace, the lonely star-lit night in a Bethlehem stable, the miraculous visit of the magi, and the song of angels, it’s more than appropriate to feel nostalgia.

I wish you the feeling of nostalgia this season, and I pray that, though it may bring some sorrow, it will also bring you bright and pleasant memories of Christmases past.

When I think of acts of love, I usually think of love towards family and friends. But once in awhile I am amazed by love among strangers. I want to share a story of an act of love from a recent CNN report.

On Monday, Al-Shabaab militants ambushed a bus in Kenya. things didn’t go according to plan. Al-Shabaab militants have a terrifying M.O.: Launch a raid, single out Christians, and then spray them with bullets.

But this time, a group of Kenyan Muslims shielded the Christian passengers and told the attackers they were prepared to die together. The Muslim passengers, who were mostly women, told the Islamic militants to kill them all or leave them alone.

In the attack, the gunmen ordered Muslim 100+ passengers on board to come out of the bus and separate themselves from the Christians, but the Muslim passengers refused. They gave the Christian women their hijabs and helped others hide behind bags in the bus.

“They told them, ‘If you want to kill us, then kill us. There are no Christians here,” he said.

A Christian man who tried to run away was captured and shot dead, Teno said. The driver of a truck, which was trailing the bus, was also killed. But most of the passengers were saved because of the courage and humanity of a group of people, Muslim people, whose religion mandates love for humanity just as Christianity does.

When others around us are demonizing the Muslim people, we should remember this story of human dignity and bravery. We can only pray that each of us will have this much integrity and courage if ever called upon.

Thanks be to God for acts of love.

God of our hopelessness,

Hear our cries for renewed hope in the midst of chaos.

Grant us hearts to yearn for hope even when our heart feels hopeless.

Inspire us to search for hope in unusual places.

Give us the courage to look for hope even as we struggle in this life.

Let us find hope in the eyes of friend and family.

Enlarge our spirits as we seek hope from the astounding world around us.

Forgive us when we fail to share hope with those who desperately need it.

Refresh us with the hope-filled breezes of your Spirit.

And fill us with the hope of your infinite grace,

During this holy season and forever.

Amen.

Loving God, Creator of all,

Listen to the cries of our hearts as we await the coming of the Prince of Peace.

Hear us as we cry out in the midst of a world where peace is not a reality.

Comfort us as we reach out with heart and hand to our brothers and sisters in need.

Ennoble us to open our arms to those who are in exile.

Make our nation a hospitable land in which all people love their neighbors.

Forgive us for acts and words of hatred, exclusion and bigotry.

Grant us open hearts that care for all,

And help us walk in the image of Christ.

Amen

Today, I simply want to share this Christmas story about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. In the summer of 1861, Longfellow’s wife died tragically in a fire. That first Christmas without her, he wrote in his diary, “How inexpressibly sad are the holidays.” The next year was no better, as he recorded, “ ‘A merry Christmas,’ say the children, but that is no more for me.”

Then two years later, during the American Civil War, Longfellow’s son joined the army against his father’s wishes and was critically injured. On Christmas Day that year, as church bells announced the arrival of another painful Christmas, Longfellow picked up his pen and began to write, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”

He heard the Christmas bells that December day and the singing of “peace on earth” (Luke 2:14), but he observed the world of injustice and violence that seemed to mock the truthfulness of this optimistic outlook.

The poem begins pleasantly, lyrically, but then takes a dark turn. The violent imagery of the pivotal fourth verse does not sound at all like a Christmas carol. “It was as if an earthquake rent the hearth-stones of a continent,” he wrote. The poet nearly gave up: “And in despair I bowed my head; ‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said.”

But then, even from the depths of that bleak Christmas day, Longfellow heard the irrepressible sound of hope, and he wrote this seventh stanza.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep! The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to men!”

You can read the entire poem below:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound the carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn the households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Fear, anger, grief, and any number of emotions can leave us with hardened hearts. Letting our hearts get hard seems to protect us from feeling vulnerable. Hardened hearts seldom feel pain. And so we do what we need to do to protect ourselves from pain.

The problem, though, is that a hardened heart that feels no pain may also feel no joy or hope or love, the positive human emotions that make us who we are. The remedy? Take a chance at life, at the full range of life’s emotions. Soften your heart. Let it feel and respond to the emotions life sends your way.

The Bible says this about a hardened heart:

“They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart.” – Ephesians 4:18 ESV

Soften your heart and enjoy this season of angels. Let the star of Bethlehem lead you to find the Christ child. Reach out your heart and hand to those who have need. Offer an extra bit of lovingkindness to those whose hearts are hardened by the circumstances in their lives.

In these days of the Holy season, we are also inundated with the hateful rhetoric and harmful behavior caused by politics. We are hearing of war and violence everyday. Though we may feel that the darkness has descended upon the world, may the light be stronger.

Thanks be to God for “the Dayspring from on high who has visited us, to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” – Luke 1:78-79

Frederick Buechner writes about “the wild hope of Christmas.” It is so true that most of us look for that glimpse of hope in Christmas. When our hope is small, when the world seems hopeless, we look to Christmas, yearning to find our hope again.

And we do find hope in Bethlehem’s star and in the Holy Infant born in a stable. We find the hope of Christmas in every act of kindness, in the singing of the Angels, in the bright eyes of a child.

Although Christmas can be the bluest of seasons because of losses we have experienced and grief unresolved, there is still that astounding promise of Christmas, that God is with us. I cannot say it any better than does Frederick Buechner:

What keeps the wild hope of Christmas alive year after year in a world notorious for dashing all hopes is the haunting dream that the child who was born that day may yet be born again even in us and our own snowbound, snowblind longing for him.

– Frederick Buechner, from Secrets in the Dark

May the wild hope of Christmas come alive in you, this year and forever.

So many people are seeking refuge in these days. I cannot help but think of the plight of the refugees seeking protection. An estimated 9 million Syrians have fled their homes since the outbreak of civil war in March 2011, taking refuge in neighboring countries or within Syria itself. It is difficult to even imagine ourselves in the same circumstance, fleeing from our homes, leaving everything behind.

It is incumbent upon us to remember their plight and to pray for them. For families, for little children, this tragic loss is not about politics. It is about finding “home” again. It’s about finding refuge and protection. It’s about placing fear in the hand of a loving God. When I remember all the people looking for a place to call home this season, I remember the comforting words of the 91st Psalm.

He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.

– Psalm 91:4-6 NIV

May God’s grace prevail in the lives of those who have such great need. Amen.

“I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” I have often said those words to convince myself.

We spend a lifetime learning the lesson taught to us by the writer of the 23rd Psalm. In fact, most people can recite the entire Psalm, and yet the deeper meaning of it eludes us. It is this: terrible things happen in our world. Terrible things happen to us over the course of a lifetime. But the lesson for us is not to fear. I often just rest on these wise and wonderful words written by Frederick Beuchner:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” The psalm does not pretend that evil and death do not exist. Terrible things happen, and they happen to good people as well as to bad people. Even the paths of righteousness lead through the valley of the shadow. Death lies ahead for all of us, saints and sinners alike, and for all the ones we love. The psalmist doesn’t try to explain evil. He doesn’t try to minimize evil. He simply says he will not fear evil. For all the power that evil has, it doesn’t have the power to make him afraid.

– Frederick Buechner from Secrets in the Dark

When I was in the hospital undergoing many tests and procedures, one thing I did was to say to myself over and over again, “I am not afraid.” It helped.

Gratefully, God has made us resilient people who can face off against all manner of evil and not be afraid. Thanks be to God.

Friends! Just the thought of that word brings me joy. I am blessed to have many friends across the miles. And although I cannot visit with most of them face-to-face, I am comforted to know that though we are scattered, they do think of me often.

I couldn’t begin to name them all. . . Suzanne, Jennifer, Mary Helen, Patty, Helen, Suzette, Joyce, Pat, Wendell, Anne Marie, Marvin, Lee Ann, Cecily, Donna, Melody, Ken, Molly, Mitsy, Edith, Trish, Anita . . . And so many others. It would take pages to write what they each mean to me. I simply know that I am very fortunate to have friends that think of me and pray for me.

Having been so sick since February of 2014, I can truthfully say that their prayers have strengthened me and given me the courage to face each day. I am much better today because of their loving thoughts and prayers during the most difficult times.

This quote expresses friendship so beautifully:

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, “Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life”

Thank you, dear friends – those I have named and the many that I did not name. You mean the world to me, and I thank God when I think of you.

This is the season of rejoicing! But every day, I hear of someone who feels they have no reason to rejoice. Yesterday was the third Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of joy. But in the world these days, there seems to be a shortage of joy. We are a people divided in many ways. And our divisions rob us of the joy of this holy season.

There is no simple remedy, but prayer is the path to a kinder world, a world in which joy is possible. The beloved hymn, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” expresses such a prayer with these words:

O come, Desire of Nations, bind in one the hearts of humankind,
O bid our sad divisions cease, and be yourself our King of Peace.

And my favorite stanza:

O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night;
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

In this special time of year, may we each find small ways to cheer our spirits,”to disperse the gloomy clouds of night,” to rejoice in this season of joy, peace, hope and love.

Everywhere we look, we see images announcing the coming of Christmas. Colors abound, lights cover fences, trees, houses, windows. A few nights ago, I even saw an old pickup truck covered with lights.

Stars and snowflakes, Santas and reindeer cover the store shelves. The sparkly, tinsel-covered things announce the coming of Christmas. But I wonder, what announces the coming of Christ, the most miraculous coming of all?

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
For you will go on before the Lord to prepare his ways;

To give to His people the knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins,

Because of the tender mercy of our God,
With which the Dayspring from on high will visit us,

To shine upon those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace.”

From Luke 1

May the announcement of Christ’s Advent be a renewed spirit of giving to those in need, melodies of joy to the world, extraordinary acts of kindness one to another, gifts of hope that mark this season, and the opening of our hearts to the way of peace.

These are the images I pray to see during this advent season.

I am living with a serious illness. My Village has walked beside me with caring and love. My Village is scattered across many states, and even overseas. The people in my Village are of every religious persuasion. They are male and female, young and not-so-young, near and far. My Village has prayed for me constantly since 2014, and my Village has given me strength and courage for these days. Communities most often depend on proximity. My Village does not, but from wherever they are, they have constantly communicated their love.

I am convinced beyond any doubt that it takes a village to live a life filled with challenges and obstacles. Since the day I learned of my end stage kidney disease in February of 2014, my Village began to pray for me. I have been reminded many times of this scripture passage:

“For this cause we also, since the day we heard it, do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding;”

Colossians 1:9

Very early in the morning of the day I went to Piedmont Transplant Center to be evaluated for a kidney transplant, I received a text message with the video, “Be Not Afraid” and these words, “Sending love and prayers your way, Kathy. I will be heading to mass shortly and will put your name in our book of prayers in the altar.” Other messages followed throughout the day.

I am grateful to God for my Village. Each of them has meant so much to me through days of sunshine and shadow, a constant presence of care and concern.

Both of my parents were immigrants to this country. Like millions of others who sought a safer life and a brighter future, they came to the magical place they knew as New York Harbor in search of home. For them, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .” was a life reality. Today, voices are calling out a desire to close our borders to immigrants. Exiled people fleeing from their tortured homelands may not find a welcome in America.

That grieves me, especially when I remember that my grandfather had to run for his life when he came to America. It also grieves me as a Christian who believes in opening hearts and hands to those in need.

In some ways, it feels as though the people of God are exiled in our own world in these days of violence, racism, sexism and xenophobia. We have for so long lived out our calling to love our neighbors in a land where Lady Liberty lifted her torch of welcome to all people. Yet in these days, voices are shouting out words of hatred and exclusion. How do we live out our Christian mission in these days?

Sometimes it feels as if we don’t belong anymore because we feel powerless to silence the hatred that prevails. So I am reminded of this Psalm and the feelings of mourning of an excluded people.

Psalm 137 is a poignant song of the exile—sung by one who has recently returned from Babylon but in whose soul there lingers the bitter memory of the years in a foreign land and of the cruel events that have taken over life. Our situation is not the same, of course, but the emotions expressed in the Psalm mirror our own emotions when we remember America as a land of hope and not of hate, when we close our borders to hurting people, when we consider the call to cast out certain people because of their religion.

As Christians, should we not sit down and weep when we remember our country that has always welcomed all who sought refuge and a brighter future? Should we not weep when so many Americans are demanding that we close our welcoming entries?

By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps.
For there our captors demanded of us songs,
And our tormentors mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
How can we sing the Lord’s song
In a foreign land?

– Psalm 137:1-4 New American Standard Bible (NASB)

Today, may we hold in our hearts the people of the world who are truly living in exile. And may we pray that our country will never close its welcoming doors to people in search of home.

I forgot to relax for the last couple of weeks. I lost my reflective side and just went gang-busters into every project. I’m paying for it with deep, down fatigue that I can’t seem to shake. I have been thinking about the scripture passage in Psalm 46, “Be still, and know that I am God.” It led me to the depth of the entire Psalm.

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
Though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Come and see what the Lord has done,
the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease
to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

This psalm encourages me to hope and trust in God, in God’s power and providence, and in God’s gracious presence with me in the worst of times. It sends me a message that God is a help, that God is always near. The river’s message is about the graces and consolations of the Holy Spirit, which flow through every part of my being, comforting my heart and my spirit. God promises that I shall not be moved. If God is in my heart, by his word dwelling richly within me, I shall be established, I shall be helped. So I will trust and not be afraid.

Being still has been life-giving for me today. No particular agenda on my mind. Nothing that has to be written or preached. I have savored the words of the Psalmist. And from that, I have become stronger.

Sisters, we matter! How many times have you heard someone say, “I need to take back my life.” I have said it myself, many times. Life is not always a fight, although many times it seems to be, especially for women. There is the frequent fight within us to be who we are, to throw off the unrealistic expectations people may have of us, to become the persons we are meant to be.

Our stories are sung by many of our sisters . . . Sara Bareilles who sings, “Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out. Honestly I wanna see you be brave,”

And her refrain from King of Anything, “Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? So you dare tell me who to be? Who died and made you king of anything?”

Singer-songwriter Mary Lambert cuts through the clichés and gets to the hard truth of self-acceptance:

They tell us from the time we’re young
To hide the things that we don’t like about ourselves,
Inside ourselves.
I know I’m not the only one who spent so long attempting to be someone else.
Well I’m over it.

And then there is the song of Rachel Platten, Fight Song, that says,

This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My power’s turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care if nobody else believes
‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me

They sing a story much like our own story, a story of vulnerable, yet strong, women who have never stopped believing in themselves in spite of those who would try to bring us down.

But, you might ask, why do we need a “take back my life song?” We need one because others try to tell us who to be and how to be. We need one because most of us were raised to defer to others always. We need one because we shrink back from giving our own opinion about things. We need one because we are strong women who have been tamed for too long.

We need a “take back my life song” because we must begin to reclaim our own power and use that power to change the world, to live out our calling from God, to accept our role as messengers of hope and laborers for peace, to live out our enormous capacity to love and care for others, and to challenge evil when we see it. Our world needs us now, more than ever,

We have some standing up to do. In the meantime, sisters, we matter! So consider where you are and how you feel about yourself. Consider your place in the world, and if you need to, take back your life. Lots of sisters are rooting for you!

I recently received this very special message from Patty, one of my dear friends.

“You, my precious friend, are in my thoughts and prayers every day. I’m believing in faith that God has His hands on you and on this journey.”

It was the greatest gift she could have given me. Friends are cherished parts of life. Although they may be far away in miles, they live in our hearts and give us strength for another day’s journey.

As you may know, I am on a journey that will hopefully lead to a kidney transplant. It is a long journey, and for me, one that holds a great deal of fear and anxiety. I have been doing well on daily dialysis. The thought of such a major surgery, and the weakness and recuperation that follows, is disconcerting. When Patty sent me that sweet message, she spoke directly to my fear. Her words renewed my strength and shored up my resolve.

“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart”
― Eleanor Roosevelt

Thank you, Patty. I am thankful for footprints in my heart left by true friends like you. In the end, it may just be those footprints left in my heart by so many dear friends that give me the courage to continue this life journey.

And a great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that it was already filling. But He was in the stern, asleep on a pillow. And the disciples awoke Him and said to Him, “Teacher, do You not care that we are perishing?”

Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

– Mark 4:37-39 New King James Version (NKJV)

Living life can easily be compared to being in the midst of a storm. The winds blow around us, sometimes strongly enough to to blow us off our feet. Certainly winds can move us to places we never intended to go.

We lean into the gentle breezes, feeling assured that we are safe. But the strong breezes can frighten us, and gale force winds control our journey in disconcerting ways.

At times, I have felt helpless against winds that would carry me where I didn’t want to go. At other times, gale force winds took complete control of my life.

Storms will come upon us from time to time. I am comforted, though, by the words of Elizabeth Edwards:

“She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.”

In just a brief perusal of the news, I came across these headlines.
A man hugged girl, 7, at soccer practice, then killed her.

Oklahoma mother is arrested for starving five-year-old daughter.

Father is arrested for death of Malik Drummond, Searcy two-year-old missing since 2014.

The youngest victim of sex trafficking in the Connecticut Department of Children and Families’ files is 2 years old.

California domestic terrorist was a victim of childhood domestic abuse.

The world is covered with tragedy of every kind, but no acts of violence are as devastating as violence against innocent children. I could find thousands of headlines like these in any given day, and that should leave us bowed in grief and shame. Is it not possible for humanity to care for her children? Can we not find ways to protect children from lethal violence?

The short answer is that we have not done so yet. We have not put a stop to the murder and abuse of children. May God have mercy on us.

I take a slight bit of liberty with the Biblical text, but I will strongly affirm that if anyone harms a child, “it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.”

Let us join our hearts and hands to do whatever we can to create a safe place in the world for all children.

Psalm 122

I rejoiced when I heard them announce,
“The time of warfare is past.
No more will brother hate brother
or violence have its way.
No more will they drown out God’s silence
and shut their hearts to his song.”

Pray for peace in the cities
and harmony among the races.
May peace come to live on our streets
and justice within our walls.
With all my heart I will pray
that peace comes to live among us.
For the sake of all earth’s people,
I will do my utmost for peace.
Source: The Psalms (translated by Stephen Mitchell)

In times like these, the words of this Psalm speak to us directly and personally. In the midst of violence, we hear words of hope. In the midst of racism, we hear words of reconciliation. In the midst of terrorist acts, we hear words of comfort. In the midst of chaos, we hear words calling us to make peace and justice.

With these words from the Psalmist, we become brother and sister, joined inseparably with the mission of seeking a more hospitable world. We long for days of peace. We yearn for love among humanity. We set our hearts on building a world of compassion. We hunger and thirst for righteousness.

Thanks be to God for comforting words that move us to gentler places.