Angels on Christmas Day
My most favorite day of the whole year.
The lights of the tree, the smell of apple cider,
The cool winds that blow even here in the tropics.
The preparations for Christmas morning.
No other eve is filled with the anticipation and excitement.
For some of our children, this will be the first Christmas ever
With presents and so much food.
Their little hearts trusting, waiting and so full of joy.
For many, it will be the first real celebration of the birth of Jesus.
The children are all in their beds
Kissed and hugged.
Tucked in with promises of lovely gifts.
All but for one little one.
This precious waif came to us only three days ago
Already terribly compromised.
Already too sick.
Diagnosed with something too hard to pronounce
And with no cure or management.
In between wrapping gifts, fixing shoeboxes, and scurrying about,
We took turns holding her.
Singing to her. Praying over her.
Stuck in a world of in-between.
Looking for the angels.
And just as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Day,
She took her last breath.
Stunned, I sat still for a few moments, holding her.
Unsure of how to feel. A sudden sadness filling my heart.
Such a conflict…
Thinking about this day and its festivities about to dawn.
Christmas Day is a celebration of the reasons we have hope.
That baby born that brought hope to this pathetic, painful world.
Quiet peace filled my heart.
And I am thankful to know that on this day, this tiny one,
Went ahead of us and saw the bright lights of heaven.
How they must have been amazing.
And how she heard the choirs of angels singing.
Glory to God. The harmony would have been truly glorious.
A Day of celebration like nothing else.
Merry Christmas, little one.