One night, recently, Laurie was awakened and went downstairs. She thought of turning on the television but instead turned to her devotionals and Scripture. She was confronted with these words: "For the joy of the Lord is your strength." Neh 8:10. Anxiety could have awakened her, especially concern for our three-year-old grandson, Kason, who lives with us without his mom and dad. This circumstance has radically altered her priorities and ours, and our lifestyle. Our freedom has been curtailed in dozens of ways and redirected in others. We are absolutely certain God has brought this little one into our midst and yet, we are often frustrated, fatigued and, yes, anxious.
In the morning, we were sitting around our kitchen table with several of our kids and Kason. Laurie stopped the conversation, which she hardly ever does, and said "This is important." She went on to share her encounter of the previous night. She was alive and animated in the telling. It was not just that she had discovered a well-known Scripture that was helpful. She spoke it and one could see that it was doing a work in her of actually bringing joy. She had come to know something rather than just know about it.
Then, on Thanksgiving, over thirty of us were gathered at Laurie's sister's home in Greensboro. Laurie's mother, Laurie's three sisters, their husbands and children, all of our children, two husbands, a boyfriend, two little grandchildren, along with my sister and Frazier's in-laws were gathered in the kitchen for the Thanksgiving prayer. Laurie stopped us once again. She began to read a newspaper column, years old, sent to her mother by her mother and redistributed some years ago to Laurie and her sisters by their mom. Laurie kept it and brought it to share. It spoke directly to the generations gathered in homes at Thanksgiving and I could tell that she was seeing not only the people present but also those gathered in the unseen. When she reached a line about the faces of the little ones, she broke down. Her mother was in tears too. Laurie had to pause for some time but she clearly had the floor. It was as if she were saying once again: "This is important." Her tears, her heart, her gentleness, all that was going on in her and spilling out, was a Thanksgiving feast brought through the eyes and tears of someone whose reservoirs are always full but rarely disclosed. Later, I told her this: "Thank you for taking the time and risk of showing how deeply you feel. It was very attractive and I long to see more of you." We are eager to hear another, "This is important" from Laurie because we get to know and see her so much more clearly in those moments of wisdom shared from the heart.
Why do I share these vignettes with you as our Christmas and year-end greeting? For one, I want you to know this companion of mine who is often hidden from view in our work, except to those who come for prayer each week and share a meal at Laurie's table before we begin three days of prayer. Secondly, I believe for each of us, when we are fully in the truth, present to the truth, we become fully present to others through joy and tears and passion. We are not wondering about our existence; rather, we are in existence. We step into our personality, fully human, and there is an impact from being seen that rocks the universe. It cannot be ignored either in the seen or the unseen. Thirdly, it gives me an opportunity to comment on a preceding event last spring that deepened Laurie in both her humanity and her spirit. For the first time, she was able to join me on an eight-day solitude retreat together with the Jesuits north of Boston. This both awakened her, rested her and prepared her for the pressures to come. It cannot be over emphasized concerning what this time meant to her and what it fulfilled in her, as well as what it meant to me to finally share this restorative time with her.
So, I pray for us and for each of you this Christmas to be more present to our God and to ourselves and to each other. Otherwise we may miss each other. We may not really come to know each other and will also miss becoming known. In the same way, we may not see Jesus even though we are celebrating his birth. We may not see Mary except as an actor in a play and thus miss the opportunity to learn from her. We may not hear the angels sing "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill toward" all of humanity. We may not see through the eyes of Simeon as he clasps the baby to his breast and cries out with all of himself, "For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation."
As disciples of Jesus, we are called to speak of what we have seen and heard, filled with the Holy Spirit. Acts 4:20. We can speak of what we heard and that counts, but it has nowhere near the power, in the Holy Spirit, that both seeing and hearing in proclamation does. That shakes the universe. The difference is both palpable and Real. My seeing is better through the eyes of Laurie's heart, a real helpmate to me. Can you hear the angels? Can you see them? Can you hear the nails being driven? Can you see the wounds?
We pray for ears to hear and eyes to see what the Spirit is saying, to share and be present in that oneness. John 17. And with Paul, we pray for you and for us: "I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know Him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which He has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints, and His incomparably great power for us who believe." Ephesians 1:17,18,19a.
Wishing for you and the ones you love, a Christmas filled with joy…
The Sizemores