Each Christmas I try to
take my focus a little more off the presents and more on the purpose.
This is super hard for me because I love to give gifts and that can
consume the whole holiday for me. Through my recovery process I have been
given the gift of a renewed sight and way to see Christmas. The
tenderness that I feel for that baby and the promise that was held in his birth
has brought new meaning to this season for me. Encased in that infant was
the hope of the world. He came into this world equipped to hold
everything that I would be facing.
Through all my youth I
was taught, "You will not be given anything more than you can
handle". In those dark overwhelming moments of defeat and despair, I
did not feel that at all. "It's too much...I can't do this
one...Everyone has a breaking point and this one is mine", are things that
I processed in my head. But I didn't remember that what I was given to
handle was not meant to be handled alone. It is this moment that counts! The moment that I turn from myself, turn to the Lord and accept His gift of help. It is real and often comes delivered in the hands of another.
Traditionally Christmas
focuses on the birth and the stable. But my thoughts go to the green of
the garden. The Garden of Gethsemane where my Savior would kneel, facing
the most difficult task that only He could do. Take on all. Everything.
Even though He had all power to do this, He still asked the Father 3
times if this cup could pass from Him. In essence, even our Savior asked,
"Do I have to do this? Is there another way?" And even
our Savior was sent help through the strength and comfort of an angel to help Him through. Yes, He showed us how to lean on someone else for help, how
to cleave to Him in our trials. He showed us that perfect and complete
does not mean alone.
I was not in the garden
with Him, but my sins were. My hardships, hurts, fears, pains, doubts,
hopelessness...everything! It was all in the garden with Him. This
most difficult trial of my life was in the garden with Him. His sacrifice, his suffering is something that I do not comprehend. Yet through this miraculous event I can now receive, reach back, recover. I can be refined. It is ALL
paid for. I feel that if I do not accept the price that He paid for me by
repenting, forsaking, leaning, cleaving, releasing, then I leave something
completely paid for unused. I don't want to leave this gift in the garden, I
want the cleansing power of the Atonement for me. This is the gift that I
have come to treasure. This is the gift that I now focus on through the
Christmas season and the gift that I choose to carry with me everyday.
When I hear the
echoing melody of Silent Night begin to play, my heart is pierced and it's hard to keep back the tears.
"Silent Night. Holy Night."
The night that hope was born to this world.
"All is calm. All is bright."
A bright dawn bringing the reality of redemption for no matter what we've done, no matter what we've faced.
"Sleep in heavenly peace."
The promise and reality that I can receive that peace in any circumstance. At any time.
"Silent Night. Holy Night."
The night that hope was born to this world.
"All is calm. All is bright."
A bright dawn bringing the reality of redemption for no matter what we've done, no matter what we've faced.
"Sleep in heavenly peace."
The promise and reality that I can receive that peace in any circumstance. At any time.
The gift that I give to
Him is my broken heart and contrite (repentant) spirit. During the sacrament, I
visualize myself bringing part of my challenge from the week, placing at the
base of that table and giving it to my Savior. Fittingly, Elder Dallin H. Oaks
calls the sacrament table an Altar. The sacrifice has been made. The
price has been paid. I do not want to leave anything unused in the garden and
my Savior will help me carry out the heaviest loads. This is the gift He desires.
This is my gift to Him.
Merry Christmas my friends.
Merry Christmas my friends.