A holiday eucharisteo

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, and one spastic author is tearing out her hair. Wrapped in Red IS coming, ya'll. It's coming. I sit here pausing in my furious finishing of the thing after quieting my heart and really hearing the lyrics of a classic Christmas hymn...

And in despair I bowed my head: 

"There is no peace on earth," I said,

"For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men."

Just as we wait for Christ to come again, so we labor and watch and wait thru this December flying by, as we do every year.
We live in an especially weary world right now and it can be hard to rejoice. The hustle and bustle drown out the wonder at the Love that came down.
Rejoicing in the miracle of our Savior's birth is hard to do some days--but that is when we *must* fall on our knees, cling to His strength made perfect in all our weaknesses, quiet our hearts, and hear the angels voices. They sing Glory to God in the highest--and is that not our highest calling on this earth?
I pause now in this true labor of love I'm working on to put out a new God-gifted story to the world--to watch, take heart, hope and pray.
That God's will might be done, in me, on earth, through my paltry words, as it is in Heaven. For He is a God of restoration, the truest hope we have, the greatest love we will ever experience--and He is bringing about a new and glorious morn.

Words, history, and grace color my days here in The Burgh where I seek out the perfect coffee and red lipstick.

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