little black journal

The holiday season always seems to throw me into a bit of an emotional whirlwind – lots of high highs and low lows.  I get all gushy and reflective; memories and feelings that might lay dormant for months at a time suddenly surface, making me want to laugh and cry and be alone and be with every single person I love all at the same time.  It’s a tizzy.  But it’s good.  The past couple of weeks, what’s stood out to me more than the joy of Christmas traditions or the melancholy of missing loved ones and loved places is the overwhelming sense that I am blessed.  This realization has hit me again and again and again – I am blessed.  In the middle of the night when I was woken by the sound of monsoon-like rains, I prayed for the thousands of homeless people in my city and thought about how fortunate I am to be able to snuggle deeper under the covers and shun the cold from my warm, cozy bed.  As we sang Christmas carols with our community group, while our dear friends Brian and Nicole listened in from Africa via Skype, I thought, “Thank you, Jesus, for this surrogate family”.  As I eagerly await the arrival of my soon-to-be-born niece, I imagine what it will feel like to hold her in my arms for the first time on Christmas Eve and I want to fall to my knees and praise God for babies and family and brand-new life.  As I sip my cup of hot green tea and read by the light of our gift-laden Christmas tree, I think, “God, you didn’t have to give me all this”.  But He did it anyway.

“From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.”  – John 1:16