By Sarah Beasley Rein
We made it. January is over, and I for one am never sad to see her go.
In December, we had a solid excuse for just about anything:
- Haven’t gotten out of your pajamas at 3 p.m. on Saturday, and all that the kids have eaten are handfuls of Christmas goodies from the aluminum tins and cellophane bags your neighbors and work friends gifted you? So what? It’s Christmas.
- Can’t remember the last time you dusted or mopped? Why bother? Every inch of space is covered in nativity scenes and garland, and the once-lovely tree is shedding needles every time someone walks near it.
- Not prioritizing your health? There are three parties a week, and it is freezing outside. Not the time to tackle this problem.
Then January comes along and rudely robs us of our defenses. We are suddenly left staring our issues directly in the face without the twinkling Christmas lights and festive music to distract us. And here’s the truth: Life is hard. On this earth, it will never not be.
A few days before Christmas, dozens of people from my neighborhood gathered to carol. We often visit the same families each year, and our first stop was the home of a retired Presbyterian minister. Every year, this elderly man of God would enthusiastically pull out his harmonica and play for us while his beautiful wife grinned behind him.
But this Christmas was the first he’d had to celebrate without her in over 50 years. I worried that the lyrics of “Joy to the World” would sound hollow in the face of her loss just a few months prior. But as we stood at his door, candles in hand, to beckon the world to receive her King, I felt foolish. Is he suffering? Of course he is – more deeply than I can imagine right now. But aren’t we all, to varying degrees? Isn’t the world itself groaning under the curse of sin, sadness, and death?
And when our neighbor picked up his harmonica yet again, sang with us, and cried on his doorstep, I imagined those hymn lyrics might actually be more meaningful than ever. “Let every heart prepare Him room, and heaven and nature sing” reminds us that Christ has come … and He is coming again. In the meantime, we sin, we suffer, we doubt. But take heart, Christian, for as the Narnian tale reminds us,
“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”
Sarah and Trey Rein make their home in Brandon with their four children and the best neighbors, just down the road from their beloved Lakeside Presbyterian Church. Sarah is a realtor and lover of good books and learning. You can follow her on social media for all things real estate and literature.