One of the many versions of currently circulating crud came upon our house last week. Thankfully, it visited only me and has left my other family members unscathed, but for being in the unpleasant position of being in the same company as someone coughing and sneezing and surrounded with tissue. The crud started several days before Christmas and has loosened its hand a couple times, just enough to lure me back into a semi-normal engagement with life before it once again tightened its grasp to demonstrate its continuing authority. Yesterday was a loosening and last night and this morning have been another tightening. Yuck. I know many are going through the same thing.
Many are going through much more.
My sister-in-law buried her mother yesterday. The day before Christmas, the sister of my son's good friend gave birth to twin babies too early for them to live.
I realize a sermon, an essay, a book could be written about the theological meaning of bad things happening during the Christmas season. In the midst of such grief, isn't it wonderful that the most potent hope we have has entered our world? Aren't these the times in which God with us is never more important? That sort of thing.
But for now, I wish the rest of my sister-in-law's Christmas's didn't have to be covered by the memories of grief. I wish that young woman's babies were alive and well.