I was sitting on the couch, nursing the baby, a spectator of the family drama playing out before me. In the kitchen, someone was stirring cookie dough to the rhythm of Christmas jazz. The kids were laughing and talking, moving in and out of rooms. The duplo blocks were stacked and scattered. Christmas lights twinkled. If this were a movie, it might be the final scene, seen from outside the glowing glass of the kitchen window, panning out into the gloaming, where stars began to pierce the soft darkness and snow might start to fall.
We were the motion picture of happiness. The family Christmas special. And yet, I sat, softly weeping, baby in my arms.
The tears were an instant and irrepressible response to the melody of an old hymm that shuffled onto the playlist. A song I had forgotten. I sang it often in church as a girl, not understanding the the words.
The memory of the lyrics, unfolding phrase by forgotten phrase, revealed an ache in my heart that I now see has been present through much of this difficult year.
This isn’t a 2-hour movie. And no matter how the camera depicts it, my life is not idyllic. I am haunted by gaping questions that refuse to wrap up nicely like gifts under the tree. The sorrows of my own life, the images that thrash about in my mind when tragedy threatens to advance, the waking knowledge that grief and suffering have cast a shadow on the whole beautiful landscape of the world—this is the undercurrent of my consciousness. In the quiet spaces of my life, especially during the blustering rush of holiday merriment, my heart is tenderly aware of an ever-deepening ache and sorrow that touches all creation.
I cry, and only God sees.
The camera pans back from the clear night, in through the softly-glowing window and onto my shaking frame. The baby sleeps in my arms. The oven beeps. The music plays. I lift my head and begin to sing the words.
Abide with me, fast falls the even tide
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, O abide with me
This is the good story that Christmas brings. God with us, Emmanuel, abiding with us. God with us in every joy and every ache. God with us in strength and in weakness. In life and in death. In peace and in struggle. God with us in sorrow. God with us in celebration. God with us in beginnings and endings. God with us at the bedside of the dying. God with us as we cradle the sweetly sleeping baby. God with us in each momentary grace, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat. God with us in conversation, in tears, in laughter, in love that endures. God with us in this life and in the life to come.
Joy to the world, the love of God has come down to earth to abide with us.
Merry Christmas, friends. I pray that you will sense the abiding presence of God in all your comings and goings, and that you will have deep peace and great joy this Christmas. Sending so much love.
Mackenzie
From the family:
My oldest daughter, Rosie, just posted her newest song. I absolutely love it. I feel like it is a hand you can take in your sorrow. I hope you can take a few minutes to listen. You can follow her on substack here.
From Paloma’s sketchbook:
I love this happy drawing from Paloma’s sketchbook. You can purchase one of Paloma’s beautiful journals here. They are in production as we speak and will be delivered to us soon! (Paloma is our second daughter, age 15. She makes dolls and drawings, available on our shop page.)
And finally, sending peace with this song from Randy and me.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
The Chesters
Thanks for sharing, Becky! Merry Christmas.❤️