Blank Christmas

There's been a slight wrinkle in Christmas this year. It happened too early. We opened presents at my sister's house this morning, Christmas EVE. Which means there's nothing to wake up to tomorrow. For the first time in my twenty four years, there won't be anything to wake up to on Christmas. Don't worry, I'm gonna be okay, but its still a little weird. Tomorrow feels a tad blank. And that makes me wonder what Christmas is like for millions of people in this world. People who make me feel fortunate to have nothing to wake up to. Because they won't even have the peace of waking up to nothing. They'll wake up to hunger or the same nagging disease. They may not even go to sleep because they can't stop thinking about the family they don't have. Or the guns that keep firing nearby. There are many worse predicaments than a blank Christmas. So for that, I am thankful.

And now, instead of the gifts and greedy thoughts that love to pass through my head, maybe for this one special morning, I can wake up to the knowledge that Hope was born. May all those heavy-laden souls, around the corner or around the globe, find rest, find peace, find love, by the grace of God.