Star-wise, the Magi traversed foreign sands, often against the wind.
The star beckoned.
Uncharted terrain, bandits and unwritten tribal codes, regional airborne viruses—everywhere, monumental risk.
By night, they braved prowling beasts; by day, in town after town, the narrowed eyes of strangers.
Perhaps second thoughts eroded their confidence.
Is this the best plan?
Did I choose the right gift?
How will I make it through these days?
I’m asking the same questions.
Resolved to streamline our Christmas celebration, I started early, and simply, this year. Then succumbed—yet again—to moreness.
Shopping, wrapping, occasionally snapping …
Anxieties clone themselves, especially at 2:00 a.m.
It’s like running errand #183 just as a small rock strikes the side window. The point of impact spiderwebs, my whole outlook skews.
My soul under duress resembles a lake, subject to cycles of freeze and thaw. Sometimes, late at night, lake ice ka-booms and keens, as if a whale is trapped underneath it.
Come morning, a newly exposed seam zig-zags across the surface. A passing crow might read it as lightning.
Star-wise, another angle
“[A block of] ice splits star-wise,” Frederick Buechner writes, quoting Sir Thomas Browne.
“A tap of the pick at the right point, and fissures shoot out in all directions, and the solid block falls in two at the star.”
But this fragmentation I’m feeling exceeds the usual Yuletide madness. Anxieties over loved ones also derail peace and goodwill. Seems worries are a seasonal visitation … but not from above.
All around us trauma and heartbreak and outrage are shattering lives. Nature. Nations.
“Not now!” I want to holler. “It’s Christmas!”
Disaster
Defined literally, the word disaster means “without a star” (Latin: dis, or “without” plus astro, star”).
In other words, groping through darkness, like my sister, post-op, fighting free of the anesthesia.
- A friend battles grief, stunned by a young man’s suicide.
- People I love struggle to process their grandson’s diagnosis.
- On their Christmas vacation, a riptide drowns the husband of my childhood friend.
Lying awake, I watch skies burdened with snow. Where is the guiding star when fears and sorrows and holiday pressures seem too much to bear?
“The Child is born,” Buechner says,” and history itself falls in two at the star.”
Wordless, I re-position my knees,
lay out my gifts … by which I mean
every last thing I am bearing …
present it all before heaven,
reaffirm my trust aloud—here,
now, as the star comes for me.
*
Friends, what’s helping you focus?
God’s words Dec 14th, 1992
“You may choose to believe a man took your brother’s life, or you may choose to believe I called him home,” To this day, I choose the latter. It would seem those I love choose December to fall, to slip, to lose their grip, to exit this world. Must you call in December, Lord? Once He responded, “Another month would bring no joy.” With aching heart, I choose to turn my face to You. And I embrace HOPE, even in December.
Roberta, what a profound interchange. What we “choose to believe” … there’s so much power and intention and hurt tied up in this. It strikes me that our choice becomes a small litmus test for our current progress toward wholeness. December carries such high expectations and cultural freight, all by itself. To “embrace HOPE, even in December.” Yes. Me too. Thank you, friend. I feel held by this. And it was so good to see you and hug you in person!
Blessings abound in my corner of the world this day before Christmas Eve; no illness, strife, or tragedy mar its luster. But I’m remembering another Christmas some years ago, shattered by heart-breaking news. The toddler son of friends drowned in the pond on their property. It was our church community that helped me focus, through their empathy, support, prayers, and loving care expressed in deeds. We all clung to the truth that Jesus is still our Holy and Righteous One, even in the midst of a senseless calamity. And yes, Laurie, presenting our pain before heaven and reaffirming our trust are surely precious gifts in His sight. / Lord of heaven and earth, thank you for drawing especially close to Laurie (James 4:8), and for the tender ways you are revealing yourself and comforting her. We praise You for the Star of Christmas that shines healing light into the dark corners of pain.
Your gentle serenity enfolds me, Nancy. And Lord knows, I need it tonight. What a memory you’ve shared here. The power of loving community gathered in caring witness speaks so eloquently—especially to that which is incomprehensible.
Your reaffirmation is a special gift to me this evening; as if straight from the heart of God. I’m off to read James. Thank you for the perfect timing of your comment and for believing that healing light is even now probing the far corners.
Rejoicing with you in the “luster” you’re experiencing!
I am very sorry to hear all the bad news you’ve had this Christmas season, as if any season is better. But I agree that Christmas needs to be simpler. I start feeling the stress of it in the summertime. How crazy is that?
My daughter-in-law had a brilliant idea this year, and I definitely want this to be a regular event. She suggested we adults (us, our adult children and spouses) meet for dinner – with no kids to distract us. In fact, we’re meeting tonight – just the 7 of us – and it will be a memory instead of a gift they didn’t need anyway. I love it.
Wendy, that is a seriously brilliant idea. What lovely simplicity. Wow. May your gathering this evening brim with shared stories, laughter, and love. Lucky restaurant and workers, to host your family’s joy. Merry Christmas to you all!
Yeah, I’m right in there with the grief season. I often wonder why Christmas seems to highlight the family disasters as well as global ones. Maybe because we expect Christmas to be perfect – peace and joy as we see it. And instead, it draws us to see the only real Perfect peace and joy in our God who bears our sorrows. My family is experiencing a great opportunity to look up at the stars this season. And – we did last year, too. Different situations. God knows and sent His Son to show His care.
Thank you, Laurie, for putting the disasters into pieces of stars for us. Our God knows each one. A good reminder to hang onto when the season is less than perfect.
“as we see it” —yes, that’s exactly where I often stutter to a halt, clinging so hard to my own definition of peace and joy. I forget the Source. You so beautifully turn the “as we see it” on its head, reminding me it’s only in Him we are gently wrapped up in the real thing.
I’m so sorry to hear of your sorrow last year and again this year.
I’m reading your words again and now I’m thinking about the very beginning of time when the “morning stars sang together” as well as times like these, when the “mourning stars” carry the tune for us until we find our voice again. Wishing you deep peace, my friend. Deep peace.
Oh, Laurie, such great grief and weight to carry for those you love…and yourself.
Boy, can I relate (do you hear me ‘amen’ing over here??)
Here’s an insider’s view of an email I sent to a friend not 30 seconds ago, “Wouldn’t you know, when we write a book to share a message of God’s word, the light being born to us and throw in a dose of giving people permission to slow down and reclaim Christmas that, 1) first, YOU need to learn how to live the message and 2) roadblocks and discouragement get thrown in your way. I think I’ve been fighting a normal post-book-launch fatigue but also physically drained, mostly not sleeping ’cause I can’t rest. Yes, I see the irony.
I’ve been daily beginning again to lean into Jesus for my strength, to give Him the glory while I deal with life just the way it is in this season. As if He is somehow limited to move because of my circumstances….
I thought I wrote my little book for everyone else; clearly, it is also for me :-)”
Daily leaning, beginning again. Remembering that Dayspring from on high is my center, regardless of all that swirls around (and within) me.
That Amen-ing is coming through loud and … dear. 🙂
How many times have we walked this spiral, putting something out there (once we think we’ve got somewhat of a handle on it) only to find ourselves up against the Acid Test on the very issues we’ve committed to print! O the irony. Bring on the humble pie. 🙂 Show us again, Lord.
And boy, do I understand the post-launch slump. Amid the swirl, blessings on your daily lean——the perfect posture before the Dayspring on high. (I love being reminded of that name today, Jody.)
May Peace keep you in these hours of countdown. We will not go down for the count. No ma’am. We will lift up our eyes … and everything else. Merry Christmas, my friend. And a Happy New Year!
Thanks, dear Laurie, for your beautiful gift of penning words that are alive with the raw realness of life. May you be embraced with the most comforting love you have ever felt.
Gail, I feel the embrace of your thoughts and words today, thank you. Gotta tell it like it is. And to Whom else would we go with the gritty truths of daily life but the One who speaks back to us the words of Life? I so appreciate your reading and leaving a comment today. Merry merry Christmas to you and your family!
Life can be so heavy, can’t it? The disasters and griefs are real. The pain is real. And we feel it with those we love. And at the same time, the star led the wise men to the one who lightens those burdens. Doesn’t take them away, and yet lightens them.
Praying for light and lightness from the star and the Savior who holds the stars in his hands. For you, your family, and those you love.
Blessed Christmas, my dear sister.
Kathleen, yes, you’ve said it so well: “the star led the wise men to the one who lightens those burdens …” That clarity is just what I needed this morning. You bless me so often with your writing.
Light and lightness to you and your delightful family this Christmas. And a thousand blessings on your segue days!
Praying that your sis is recovering well following her surgery – and for all the things that keep us awake at night. Come dawn they often are less frightening and formidable. Every morning I glance at an old preacher’s quote,”Lord, help me to remember that nothing is going to happen to me today that you and I together can’t handle.” I wish you and those you love a very Merry Christmas, Laurie, and a blessed new year.
Susie, thank you. She was doing a lot better yesterday. I love that quote. I should probably have it tattooed to my hands! Dear Susie, I wish you wonders and wealth for your soul and all those you hold dear. Merry Christmas!
Dear Laurie, I’m sorry for the losses you are grieving and thank you for your transparent revealing of heart. This opens up questions, so that we may observe the fissures in & around our lives as well and not be afraid to bring them into God’s presence. Prayers of peace to uplift you and a very blessed Christmas, love Jenneth
Jenneth, I appreciate your caring presence here today so much. May there be safe passage in hearing the questions for us all as we try to see with the Father’s eyes, unafraid, and full of mercy, looking toward ourselves as well as those we care about. Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones as well!
Oh to be reminded that the burdens we bear are GIFTS? to our Heavenly Father. It seems a pathetic sort of gift, doesn’t it, but I like what you are saying here. This is good for me. Thanks Laurie.
Seems so backwards, doesn’t it. Pathetic is the perfect word. And to think He wants to hear it all ever-boggles my notions of ongoing conversation. May the goodness you’re sensing multiply, Carol. Thanks so much for dropping by in this busy week of preparations. Merry Christmas to you and those you love!