Thanksgiving is the skids on which Christmas arrives, paving the way and giving us gratitude in our waiting.
Our hearts are all prepared after a month of counting blessings and giving thanks, after sharing what’s plentiful and finding contentment with small things. Our hearts are prepared in November for fresh hope in December.
But there are thieving circumstances that pay no attention to our holidays and they steal our joy, replace it with silence, choke it down with emptiness.
I spent time with my dad who is terminally ill in November. He needs a new liver, and he needs the hope of Christ.
Sitting with dad for a week, watching him sleep, watching his labored breathing, I felt like all the years of praying had to come to some sort of fruition now. Things felt urgent and more important than ever, and too many what-ifs and why-nots occupied the space in my mind where God should be glorified.
I felt compelled to be more hopeful than was possible. I wasn’t writing and I wasn’t inspired and I didn’t want to do the hard work of wrestling thoughts out and trying to put hope into words.
That's when Christie emailed me.
She’s writing a book, and she’s being honest with herself about her time and her resources - something I should do more of. She shares lovely words on her blog and has faithfully written everyday of Advent in years past, but this year is different because of the book.
She asked if I would guest post at her place. And God said, “Do the hard work. Wrestle the thoughts down. Keep writing.”
Today, I've written some Advent hope here and I hope you'll visit Christie's place and find some hope in the waiting with us, because He's coming.