Recent winds shook the house, removed some shingles, rearranged a chair on my deck, separated a swag of evergreens from its red bow and toppled the lamppost in front of our condo. While nature blustered, I grabbed a flashlight, in case of a power outage. Then clutched some tissues as I continued to watch a Hallmark movie. These are desperate times so I’ve relaxed my standards and gone for almost anything with a happy ending.
Actually, it was my neighbor, Beth, who notified me about our lamppost. It lay on its side, uprooted like a felled tree, which it once was. The glass panes of the lantern shattered. Still, the bulb functioned, protected by the metal framework. An odd sight, to be sure, one flattened post with its light still shining amid the debris.
Well, it doesn’t take much of a leap for me to personalize that old broken lamppost. It’s me, some days, but without the functioning bulb. To watch the news or read the newspaper is to learn there’s a lot that’s broken out there. But there are also examples of light shining amid the debris. You may be one of God’s best stories.
Minda’s one. Every morning but one during this December I’ve read her words in Forward Day by Day. She’s an artist, author and advocate. Minda also has no arms or legs, but, from her motorized wheelchair radiates light to help us find our way to Bethlehem. Broken, to some. But as Philip Yancey reminds us,”Imperfection is the prerequisite for grace. Light only gets in through the cracks.”
And from that I take hope as I wait during Advent. God knows and welcomes us to Bethlehem in our UGG boots, sandals, stiletto heels, wheelchairs, or filthy calloused bare feet.
Beggars all, hobbling towards home on the flattened posts of our lives, oblivious to the Light shining out of our brokenness, helping others find their way to the heart and hope of the world in a Bethlehem barn.
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