Merry and Bright

Merry and Bright

This year I made Christmas shell ornaments, and one in particular became a favorite—a decoupaged heart cockle with the words Merry and Bright nestled inside. I was thrilled with how it turned out. It was large enough to serve not only as a trinket dish, but also as a candy dish—substantial and cheerful, just like the words it carried.

After the rush of sending gifts to family and friends, I finally had time to sit quietly and enjoy our Christmas tree, its twinkling lights reflecting off ornaments collected during our travels last month as we celebrated our fiftieth wedding anniversary. Each ornament held a special memory of a place, a moment in time.

Front and center hangs one of our most treasured ornaments—given to us by Mark’s sister fifty years ago. It’s a collectible Norman Rockwell piece depicting two little boys asleep in a chair while Santa looks on. It turned out to be prophetic. We had two boys!

But Christmas is not always merry and bright.

For many, it can be a devastating season—especially for those who live alone, who have lost loved ones, or who have no family nearby. Some feel hopeless, or have lost hope that things will ever turn around.

This month, our neighbor’s five-year-old granddaughter lost her battle with brain cancer. It was aggressive and unforgiving, taking her life in just five months. The past two weeks have been filled with candlelight services, a viewing, and finally a funeral—complete with a full gospel choir and a Southern Baptist preacher delivering a salvation message. We practically had to carry Grandma Libby out of the church; she was so overcome with grief.

Instead of Christmas Eve being merry and bright, it has become a symbol of loss. Of absence. Of a future suddenly void of the sweet little girl who used to bring me flowers and who brought so much joy to her grandmother.

Tonight is our church’s Christmas Eve service, and we’ve invited Grandma Libby to join us. We hope that being surrounded by people who love and care for her will lift her spirits, even just a little. But if you’ve ever been in the throes of grief or depression, you know how impossible it can feel to simply “snap out of it.”

The beautiful truth is this: God always meets us where we are—no matter what.

Is it possible for life to be merry and bright after such devastating loss? Not unless we know the Hope-Giver. The Savior who came to earth as a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. Who died on the cross for our sins. Who rose again on the third day. And who is preparing a place in heaven for all who believe in Him.

Yes, our lives can still be merry and bright if we know Him—even in the midst of heartbreaking loss. Even when grieving a deeply loved granddaughter. There is always hope for a bright future when we know the Giver of Light.

If you find yourself where Grandma Libby is right now—if your future does not feel merry or bright—please know this: God loves you and invites you to call on His name.

Wonderful Counselor.

Mighty God.

Everlasting Father.

Prince of Peace.

He will give you a future—and a hope!

Joyfully His, Connie

#GriefAtChristmas #HopeAfterLoss #ComfortInFaith #GodMeetsUsHere #ChristmasEve