I do like Christmas. It’s hard not to. Most importantly, for someone who likes receiving mail as much as I do it’s a dream holiday. Everyday we get mail from all over the globe, with updates, photos and family newsletters. Big lettes, small letters, little notes with Baby Jesus encrusted in glitter and I love it all. There is nothing quite so amazing as this American machine of trust, that you drop something in a metal box outside your door, and allowing for proper postage, it ends where the address says. Amazing. I cringe a little everytime I hear an update about how the US Postal Service is in dire straits. What would Christmas be with cards arriving up to 9 days afterwards.
But what can make such things sweeter? When you know that not only are you thougth of, you are being cared for.
Heather and I have had a year, a year I will not judge in whole as yet because the ball has not yet dropped over Times Square. We’ve been through the wringer a couple of times, and we have been reminded of the grace and mercy and love of the Almighty, along with His provision. But I am always relieved and a little shocked by the care and love and mercy of those whom He has called to be His own. Relieved because it always comes when we need it, even if we were not aware of it, and shocked because I never expect it. We have found comfort and care in the hands of these beloveds, and I am thankful for them.
We received an anonymous gift at a timely place, surrounded by updates, family newsletters, and baby Jesus’ covered in glitter. I do not make a guess to who it is, but if they read this, Thank-you. You’ll never know what you’ve done for us, and how you’ve been as an agent for Him to encourage. I have always felt cared for by Devonshire Church, and I pray that I can be the model and leader and encouragement to others as God would have me be, seeing as how I cannot provide much financially.
Thank-you, whom ever you are.