Life

Advent, the season of preparation. Preparation of one’s heart to welcome the Christ child in, if you are a Christian. To ponder afresh the meaning of God incarnate, of Jesus laying aside the majesty and glory he had in heaven and becoming a vulnerable human being. To wonder and marvel at this truth, so that on Christmas eve and day, when we really celebrate, there is that meaningful dimension of amazement and love and joy.

The run-up to Christmas, the season of preparation. For those whose thoughts of Christmas are confined to the eating, drinking, exchanging of gifts, a time of hassle and rush, of expectations and expense.

And for those facing imminent death, also a season of preparation. Preparing to meet their Maker. While all the world rushes round in a flurry of tinsel and glitter, some have stopped, confined to beds perhaps, waiting. 

Walking Dusty this morning, I stopped behind the woods and gazed at the rosy hued dawn. I tuned my ears to the noise – mostly birds, though a dim whoosh of traffic could be heard, too, and a plane flew overhead. I had just poured out my heart to God – been brutally honest about how I feel about a young woman in the prime of life languishing at death’s door, a young woman who has much to offer, not least her incredible faith in the face of adversity and pain. I feel upset. I feel angry. I feel confused as to how this can be.

So I listened. And this young woman’s own words came to my mind. ‘It’s not about me. It’s about Jesus.’

Courage. Faith. She’s done more – in her blog and her relationships – to show the love of Christ than most of us will though we live a full four score and ten.

http://iwontbewanting.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/the-bucket.html