Never too far

The same couch I sat on as a teenager. Looking at the familiar Christmas decorations. We have prepped as much as we can and now my bags are packed, and I'm ready...more or less...to go.
There is a heartache deep within, though, as I think of my dear Mom all alone here on Christmas morning, opening these tokens of love. She is old and she is vulnerable, and watching over her from afar is painful.
Choices. Geography. Circumstances. Mine has been a life of separations of one sort or another. Maybe everyone's lives are like that.
I've learned that our Father is a bridge, linking across the oceans, linking through time, linking through generational differences, linking through bereavement. He is never a bridge too far. He is reliable and true. He is comfort. He is love.
As I walk out the door later, I only do so in his strength, knowing that he never fails, that though I will soon be too far to make Mom feel safe, he isn't. Underneath are the everlasting arms. His love never fails.
That is the story of Christmas. A love that never lets us go. A love that transcends time and space. Grace and peace.