We’re between movies. She is taking
a bath with her special Christmas mango
bubble bath. We just finished watching
one of our favorites: “White Christmas.”
A 1954 extravaganza, a feast for the
heart. Mine for sure. I’ve seen it a
million times and I still tear up at the
same predictable places for me. What
something or someone touched your
heart today? Does “Jesus” move me
more than Crosby and Clooney? Not all
the time; I’m quick to get choked up and
visibly emotional (holding it back, trying
to hide it) several times watching the
movie. But when I think of the birth
of Jesus (And His death on the Cross;
and Easter, that I cannot separate from
Christmas.) my show of emotion falls
short or falls away to nothing. Life gets
in the way. Pain gets in the way. I get
in my own way. I’ll get to see Him some
day. When I do, I’m afraid I’ll blubber
far more than when I see “White
Christmas,” that it will uncontrollable
tears not just of joy, but of the pain of
this life that got in the way of loving
more than I am able.
Sometimes it takes a movie. Sometimes
it takes the truth that Jesus is the Son
of God and the King of Kings to bring
us to tears. Real tears. Tears of joy are
harder for some than all the other tears.
Today I’m thankful for any tears at all.
Christmas is a day of joy and of tears.
We are all born to die; but only One was
born to die for us all.
Merry Christmas for real.