I had a different post planned for today, but instead, I’d like to take a moment acknowledge what happened over the weekend, in a small “we are like family” town in Connecticut. My heart is deeply saddened by this tragedy, and I went through the motions of a busy weekend, with a heaviness on my shoulders.
My hearts cry is….
Oh Jesus, come quickly. ♥ Our world is such a fallen place.
My arms ache to hold my babies close and never let them leave my side, to plug their ears and shield their eyes from the ugly world they live in. To keep them home with me forever! Tonight I kissed their sweet cheeks extra much as I tucked them in. Hugged them a little bit longer. Prayed over them with a little more urgency for safety, protection and a long, full life on this earth.
The Bible promises, that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
You know that last words and actions, that fateful morning before school, will play over and over in the minds of those left behind, daddy’s and mommy’s wishing for just a few more hugs and good-bye kisses in the chaos of a “regular” school morning.
Christmas will be quiet this year for those Sandy Hook Elementary school families who lost precious children: presents under the tree will go unopened, Christmas plays will be missing key roles.
It is my fervent prayer, that as they fall to their knees in grief, they will find Jesus there, with open arms, holding and comforting them.
Heavenly Father, be with those precious families in the days to come, we know you understand grief and loss, as you sent your one and only Son to die a slow and painful death for us. Draw us near to you in the days to come, that we might feel your comfort. This nation needs you, now more than ever. I am sorry we push you away at every turn. In God we still trust. Amen.
Rest in the arms of Jesus, little ones.
No more sorrow, no more tears.
From author Max Lucado:
It’s a good thing you were born at night. This world sure seems dark. I have a good eye for silver linings. But they seem dimmer lately.
These killings, Lord. These children, Lord. Innocence violated. Raw evil demonstrated.
The whole world seems on edge. Trigger-happy. Ticked off. We hear threats of chemical weapons and nuclear bombs. Are we one button-push away from annihilation?
Your world seems a bit darker this Christmas. But you were born in the dark, right? You came at night. The shepherds were nightshift workers. The Wise Men followed a star. Your first cries were heard in the shadows. To see your face, Mary and Joseph needed a candle flame. It was dark. Dark with Herod’s jealousy. Dark with Roman oppression. Dark with poverty. Dark with violence.
Herod went on a rampage, killing babies. Joseph took you and your mom into Egypt. You were an immigrant before you were a Nazarene.
Oh, Lord Jesus, you entered the dark world of your day. Won’t you enter ours? We are weary of bloodshed. We, like the wise men, are looking for a star. We, like the shepherds, are kneeling at a manger.
This Christmas, we ask you, heal us, help us, be born anew in us.