He’s hurt

 

I came into the house and immediately had a foreboding feeling-something wasn’t right. The back door was locked and we were to have company within an hour. I called my usual, “yoo-hoo,” no response. I looked up and down stairs. Upstairs I found a wet dish towel in the tub. I squeezed it and brown liquid flowed from it. I went downstairs to the other bathroom and saw an ice pack and blood spots in the sink. He’s hurt and I don’t know where to find him. I pray he’s gone to the doctor-though he’s not one to do that-ever. I wander around the house while first texting him, and then calling him on my phone-no response. I wander outside to the deck and see his car drive up. My husband is gathering papers and medical chux. I recognize them as my family has needed them so often with their chemo side effects. He pulls himself out of the car and haggardly looks up. “What happened,” I ask? He pulls his cap off to reveal his bloody head and hair. “I have three stitches,” he says. I go to him and together we enter the house. “I am so very sorry I wasn’t here for you,” I tell him.

You see I was down the street at a ladies luncheon. We were laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It was such a fun time-my husband up the street was not having a fun time. “Why didn’t you call me?” Though I knew full well I hadn’t taken my phone with me. “You could have called Brenda!” Speaking quietly, “I didn’t want to interrupt your luncheon.”

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

Dear Lord, I didn’t have any idea where our conversation was going today. But You knew. In the days before Christmas You are giving me lessons on the real reason for the season. Jesus, Your only Son, was born. You knew what His life would mean to the world. You sent Him as our teacher, way-shower, savior, friend. You knew the eventual ending to the Christmas Story-the crucifixion. You sent Your son to Earth; You watched Him grow; You were happy when He was happy; You cried when He cried-as all parents do. You saw the fulfillment of Your Word living amongst the people; You were pleased with Your son’s ministry; You were so happy that Jesus’ life mission was to save souls so that all Your children would come to Papa, as they say. You were thinking of me, of all Your children the hour Your only son was born in Bethlehem to Mary-in the pain of childbirth. You were thinking of me, of all Your children as You let go of Jesus, Your precious little lamb, and allowed the pain, torture, and suffering required to pay for my sin and for the sins of all Your children. In the midst of His pain, Jesus thought not of himself, but of all of mankind.

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

He was thinking of me-even in his own pain.

 

Zephaniah 3:17 The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by his love; He will exult over you with loud singing.

 

O Little Town of Bethlehem

Lyrics: Phillips Brooks, 1835-1893      Music: Lewis H. Redner, 1830-1908

O little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see Thee lie;
above Thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting light;
the hopes and fears of all the years
are met in Thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary,
and gathered all above,
while mortals sleep, the angels keep
their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars together,
proclaim the holy birth,
and praises sing to God the king,
and peace to all on earth!

How silently, how silently,
the wondrous gift is given;
so God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive Him, still
the dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin, and enter in,
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
the great glad tidings tell;
o come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel!

 

Jesus Loves the Little Children

Words by C. Herbert Woolston         Music by George F. Root

Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red, brown, yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children
Of the world.

Jesus died for all the children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus died for all the children
Of the world.

Jesus rose for all the children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus rose for all the children
Of the world.

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