That's Lit

Perhaps it's the fact that we just came home from church a couple hours prior, or that it's officially December first, but Christmas and all it's sparkling, shimmery, brightness is dancing merrily like little sugars plums in my head. It's one of those seasons that has it's own feeling, smell, taste, look...it basically satisfies every sense in its own special way. Yet there's one thing about it that always draws my attention: light.

It's not uncommon for houses in our culture (and I'm sure others as well) to be dusted and sometimes even frosted with strands of bulbs dripping from their roofs. My personal favorites are Christmas trees that are all wrapped with little lighted hugs. However, Christmas delves much deeper that its glittering surroundings, delicious food, mysterious gifts, and family time.

Though I know Christmas has its pagan undertones, there is a faith filled aspect to it as well. God saw that the world was in so much pain that he needed to become part of it and did so through the birth of Jesus. (I encourage you to pause and read Luke 2 if you are unfamiliar with this truth) He is The Way. The Truth. The LIGHT. After reviewing this story for the past 25+ years it hasn't really hit me how much light plays a key role in this holiday.

John 1:5 reads the following:

Read it again.
And again.
Ok that's enough.

At that time God entered the world when it was at one of its darkest points. Sin was something that people were not able to be washed clean of and their ultimate end was death due to their own wrong doings. Yet when Jesus entered the world, so did the light. He was (and still is) the beacon of hope that shines through with pure saving grace. 

To whomever is reading this, I don't know your current circumstance. It could be the worst, most unbearable, bottomless pit. But from my own experiences I've found that God is a good God. He will not leave you, he will not forsake you and I guarantee that, in his own perfect timing, his light will shine through.

Pushing 20

It's September 11th, 2019.

Subtract 19 years and that date would have been no less significant than that of any other that thumb printed itself on this 9th month. (Unless it's your birthday, of course.) I'll be honest it's something I've kind of numbed myself to, like any person likes to do with trauma. It happened, it's done, let's move on. But that's the thing with trauma, it doesn't just go away. I guess what gets me the most is that I didn't have anyone close to me directly affected by it. So why, on the evening of the 18th anniversary, can my mind do anything but escape what my 12 year old self saw playing over, and over, and over on that T.V. set?

After all,
It happened,
It's done,
Let's move on.

Everyone who had the capacity to remember that day has a story.

I remember mine,
Vividly.

I was in sixth grade. Sixth grade. At the school I was attending this meant junior high. The school day had just dawned and homeroom was in session. My happy, balloon-like spirited teacher had left the room for mere moments and returned, deflated. She took breathes so deep it was as if she was gasping for air at the surface of the emotions that were trying to drown her.

"At [whatever time it happened] this morning two planes hit the World Trade Center..."

My naively ignorant, middle school self was confused about why this was so upsetting (let alone didn't even know what the WTC was. Yes, I know, I know). Plane crashes, though devastating, weren't unusual and didn't normally cause so much upset.

It happened,
It's done,
Let's move on.

I came home. My parents were watching the news (as I'm sure millions of other families were) and there on the screen were the planes. There on the screen went the explosions. There on the screen went the towers. There on the screen. Were the people.

It became real.

I distinctly remember seeing a man jumping out of a window, in the skydiver's position. He almost looked as if he was suspended in mid air as he flew hundreds of feet to his eminent death.

But
It happened,
It's done,
Let's move on.

Flash forward to today.

If you frequent the social media world, by now you would have seen the remembrance video that the TSA so perfectly pieced together. Woven seemly in each frame are the voices of operators, victims, and so on layered upon videos and footage. As my pupils took in each image all I could think about was that man jumping out that window. I can't even begin to try to formulate the right wording to explain what these people are feeling and experiencing. Terror? Anxiety? Desperation? All are mere rain drops in an ocean of reality.

There are many that don't just find this day to be a distant memory.

For them
It happened
It's not done.
And they're trying, but they can't move on.

Remember not only what happened, but the people who were affected by it.
And pray, always pray.