Christmas

It's that time of year. To have conversations with my unbelieving brother about how I know what love is and how I can believe in a God I cannot see. To merely raise an eyebrow at my cousin when he makes snide comments about environmentalists. To nibble on dry cookies and smile. To try to apply my new knowledge about the cons of laser eye surgery from my ophthalmologist uncle to everyday life. To see my mom wearing my gift to her the next day. To be sympathetic to my aunt who is bearing the brunt of my family's greed after the death of my grandfather. To not care about the things I inherit. To be inspired by that grandfather's letters sent all over the world, preaching the gospel in love and encouraging believers. To ask my mom about the history of old ornaments and to do my best not to break out weeping as I hang my dad's cello and sailboat on our tree. To miss him terribly. To close my eyes to the St. James Cathedral choir singing "Once in Royal David's City" and wonder that somehow heaven's worship will be more sublime, more glorious than this.

And now it's over, and I hope I can live more fully in gratefulness to the Savior who gives me life and hope, who teaches me to love, who heals my heart, who takes care of his orphans and widows, who answers my prayers and allows me to pray for the battle over my brother's faith, who provides always.