I have not been able to write for awhile. Life has simply gotten in the way of it, and as I said several months ago I would only write when I could. Seemed like I should have…but then again, I don’t know that I would have been capable of doing so, much less that I would have anything to say this year.
I wanted to share with you, however, a small snippet of a post I read late last night. Jessica Kelley, a blogger I will now be following (see to the right), lost her son a couple years ago and has been thinking and writing and speaking on what that actually means for real, daily life (the real problem if there ever is one). The post, which you can read HERE, had me in tears and complete agreement with my own thoughts and heart over this Christmas. I needed to share.
They celebrated the coming of Immanuel, God with us. And I wondered… how many of those, who celebrated the God-child, believed that our child died according to God’s perfect plan? Did they think the humble one, who once lay in a manger, inflicted our son with brain cancer? Those who had lifted us in prayer, did they believe this silent night… was a holy night? Was this despondent Christmas the one he’d planned for us?