Every year in late November I
unpack my Christmas decorations. The two
angels you see in the picture are some of my most cherished possessions. For years, they held court at my
Grandmother’s house, waiting for December 25 to arrive.
.JPG)
I like the expression on each
face…a little mischief, a little joy. On
the bottom of both is stamped a date – 1959.
These two little angels have been waiting for
Christmas fifty-five years! That’s a
long time to wait for anything. But the
essence of waiting is hope. As we read
in the scripture verse above, God’s time is not our time.
When we begin to give up hope…when
we despair of our world ever finding peace, we must remind ourselves that with the Lord a thousand years are like a day. Our job is to be faithful in prayer and to
never admit defeat, because God is with us.
The other thing I love about
these two angels is that they are not perfect.
Though you may not be able to see it in the photograph, both of their
wings have been broken and repaired many times over the course of fifty-five
years. Though the glue-filled cracks are
visible, the angels still smile.
My “damaged” angels remind me
that despite my mistakes and missteps, I can still hope and wait for God to
come at Christmas. In the gift of a
child, we are put back together and made new.
Angels came to Mary and gave
her hope…hope for a child…hope that she would be used to fulfill God’s
purpose. Though God’s heavenly host are
often portrayed in white robes and golden wings, I believe if Mary looked
closely, she might have seen a few broken feathers and mended seams here and
there.
To me, hope is not an ephemeral
dream. It is the fulfillment of a
promise…God’s promise. Hope then and now
as captured in the cry of a baby. Hope
for a world that seems hopeless.
Janice Maynard
Comments
Post a Comment