I was talking to my parents on the phone tonight. My dad was telling me about all the cars he's fixed this week - my mom's, my sister's, and two of my nieces'.
He had a heart attack this summer, and since the doctor placed the stent in, he's feeling better than he's felt in a very long time.
"I gotta say - I think I endured a miracle," he said, and I laughed, because isn't that a delightful turn of phrase?
And I knew exactly what he meant.
Growth and goodness and forward motion don't always start out looking like something joyful. Obstacles and one way streets are scary, and taxing, and scary. When my Dad was lying in the hospital bed, I did not think he was experiencing a miracle. It was a heart attack, and knowing he'd had one left me greyer and wrinklier than before. But the care he received from the heart attack has improved and blessed his life - he's stronger, and healthier, and not taking his fitness for granted. My dad loves to work, and he's able to work hard again. Yeah - it's a miracle.
But it was a scary miracle (a scaracle?).
I know Mary thought the same thing that first Christmas.
And Joseph.
And the shepherds.
Its why all the angels said, "fear not." Because they knew we'd be scared.
New things, strange things, enormous things - they're scary. We don't know how they'll play out. Pregnancies, illnesses, new relationships, moving house, new jobs ...
I'm starting a new position at work tomorrow. I'm scared. It's new. I'll have more responsibility and I'll probably make more mistakes than I'm happy with and I dislike the feeling of not knowing what I'm supposed to be doing until I found out I've done it the wrong way (which is, like, 90% of learning, so I'm in for a ride).
But it's Christmas and I've got a soft spot in my heart for miracles at Christmas. Even ones that make my heart shake.
Fear not.
Fear not.
Fear not.
Merry Christmas, friends.
xo.
❤️
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