“Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another … If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us.” -1 John 4:11-12

The morning air is chilly. And though I’m young, I hobble along, gritting my teeth through the pain in my hips and knees. My body aches in the aftermath of yesterday’s convulsions. But I need to walk; it’s the only way to break the cycle of exhaustion. This is life with Ehler’s-Danlos Syndrome.

I try to focus on the quiet beauty of our neighborhood. Frost glitters on the grass and fallen leaves. As I turn the corner, the sun peeks through frozen trees and thaws my face a little. I thank the Lord for sunshine in winter. 

Up ahead, a group of parents huddles together while their kiddos play tag. I watch as they scramble for their backpacks and clamber onto the big yellow school bus. Chattering children wave from the windows. I try to smile, but it’s a weary attempt. They are so young and energetic! As the bus rumbles away, I can’t help feeling left behind. And old. And tired.

The next street is darker and colder now, overhung with thick pines and covered in shadows. I can see my breath, and I’m really straining now. I shiver in spite of my fluffy coat. I’m nearing the halfway point on my route, which means I’m committed. I can’t turn back for a shortcut home. And suddenly I wonder: Can I make it?

Slowly, slowly. Step by step. I think of The Little Engine That Could. “I think I can, I think I can.” I stare at the ground, concentrating on each painful step. 

Suddenly a clear voice rings through the air: “Good morning!” I look up in surprise and search for the source. From across the yard, I spy a rosy-cheeked lady wearing a blue plaid jacket and jeans, waving energetically from her front porch. I can’t help noticing her resemblance to Mrs. Claus, complete with curly grey hair and spectacles. “Merry Christmas!” she shouts. Delighted, I wave back and cry, “Merry Christmas!” 

“Oh, thank you!” she replies as she scampers off the porch. Then she slings her giant purse over her shoulder and climbs into a little red car. My heart swells with gratitude. I continue walking for a bit, then turn to watch her back out of the driveway. Tears well up in my eyes as I watch her zip away. 

The truth is: this might seem like a little thing, but it was not little to me. It was the perfect gift, at the perfect time. Just when I needed a cheerleader, my neighbor was there. I was alone, suffering, in pain. And the Lord sent me a blue plaid Christmas angel.

This year, as we celebrate Christmas, my wish for you is this: May we have the courage and insight to be angels for others. And may we pause to recognize and honor those who minister as angels to us.

Merry Christmas!

Love,

MamaC

~~~

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