Light

 

Tears stung my eyes while watching my youngest child singing the final verse of Silent Night, holding a candle near her sweet face. 

Have you ever truly thought about those last few lines?

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, oh, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth

I imagine a calm snowy night. You know the ones. Where you can almost hear the snow fall. 

And, the moon is providing just enough light to see your path. Where the air is still and the world has seemed to stop for a moment. I imagine Mary holding Jesus. Him nuzzling into her breast. His little fingers searching, getting caught on his own eyelids and in the blankets, and probably Mary’s hair. 

The soft warmth provided by the animals and the light from lanterns or candles creating a very cozy atmosphere. 

But, Jesus. Her Lord. Her baby. Her Savior. 

How would this all work out? 

There were so many unknowns. 

Have you even been in the complete darkness? The kind of dark where you can’t stop your eyes from opening wider and wider as you are straining to see ANYTHING? If there is even the tiniest bit of light, your eyes are immediately drawn to it. It’s comforting. You move toward it. The darkness cannot hide the light. Any bit of light destroys the darkness.

The night Jesus was born, a tiny baby destroyed the darkness.

In my darkest days, I considered giving up. I had truly begun to believe that the world, my family, my children, would be better off if I didn’t exist. I was in the darkest of dark places. But, I had just had a baby. That little girl in the picture above. She was my light. She was a good thing I couldn’t take my eyes off of. I was afraid that someday, she’d blame herself for not being worth living for. She may not have destroyed my darkness (that came later), but she was a glimmer of light that God provided to pull me through some of my darkest moments.

And grace.

Do you know what that word means?

Traditionally, Christians refer to grace as unmerited favor. 

An undeserved gift. Unearned preferential treatment.

My Evie.

You can find more of her story here, but the short version is that we were told we miscarried her. My body went through all the steps of a miscarriage. We went back for an ultrasound to make sure that my body had expelled everything and yet there she was. A beautiful, 13 week baby with a strong heartbeat. 

Grace. 

I didn’t deserve to keep her. Many mommas have lost their babies. But, she was God’s great act of grace in my life. My undeserved gift. My reminder that I am seen by Him. 

That’s why Grace is her middle name. 

It has been quite the journey with her. Her battle with epilepsy has not been a walk in the park, but God still shows us grace everyday with her life. 

No matter how dark things have been in my life, there has always been a glimmer of light. Sometimes it’s small. Sometimes it’s been blinding. No matter what, it cuts through the dark. 

There were days when I lived with my eyes closed, ignoring the light in front of me. Afraid it was too good to be true. Fearful that the good thing would be taken from me. Convinced I didn\"t deserve it. 

But His grace was too good. It reached into my darkness. That little light could not allow the darkness to overcome. 

His dawn of redeeming grace entered my life and was undeniable. 

Open your eyes, friends, and embrace the gracious Light and His redeeming grace. 

He’s there if you want Him.