Holidays can extract much pain from those outside the system of the normal--those afflicted, wounded, lamenting, wondering how to cope with another day with yet another setback, insurance denial, anger from those who cannot--or will not--empathize. While others congregate to celebrate, the chronically ill often remain alone at home, or what's left of it. The contrasts hurt.
And yet, and yet... There are simple joys to be had. Memories to remember. Hope for the future. Grace to be grasped. One can always cast oneself on God, the God who came near and remains near in Christ Jesus. This God refuses no humble tears and has wounds of his own--healed, but still felt.
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1 comment:
That last line was poetry. Genuinely beautiful. Thank you.
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