The final sun rays were dancing rhythmically across the dusty wood floor as dusk was slowly and shyly settling in behind the distant trees of another cold and dreary night. Winter had made its mark this year, as the blanket of snow had boldly and bravely layered all the small vegetation for miles upon end. Mother had just called out for supper, and the children were cleaning off their shoes and hanging up their coats ready to spend another evening in anticipation. To be sure, there was a fire crackling–as it had been all day–in the fireplace. And to be sure still, the warmth filling the room was a comforting relief to the stark winter chill. But, the room still felt cold. For some reason, it still felt cold.
Just last week the letter they had hoped for had finally come. The long-awaited letter that seemed to take years to arrive was at that time in their possession. And when they were all ready to open it, each eye was fixed to its content. And so, as was expected, mother had slowly and carefully begun to open it, which seemed similar to the opening of an old cast iron safe stuffed far in the back of some old and musty building. Its seal was perfect. The edges were crisp and it had a unique feel to it. A feel that had never been in the children’s hands before. It felt like a thick and hard coat that was made of linen. They all set mesmerized. Waiting. Waiting for mother to crack the seal. “Why was it taking so long,” the youngest thought to herself. Another nearly spoke up, but refrained. For he knew that now was not the time. This moment had taken this long to finally arrive, and the children knew that disturbing mother now would potentially send her into another tailspin similar to what she faced last year. And so, they waited. They waited while mother stared.
In her mind, she knew what the letter would say. She knew that–just like last year–he would not be coming home. Her husband of 10 years had left in a conviction of duty and honor. She knew that her man–who had held her so many cold nights–was not going to be there again to hold her on this dreary cold night. Her thoughts wondered off to the first time they walked into their little humble home. He had searched for what seemed like forever to give her the “place of her dreams”, as he would say over and over again. He knew that she wanted a home of her own. A place for her to spread her wings and fly. He had worked so hard to make that dream a reality. The first years were so hard there on their place. The kids were so small. He planted. She harvested. He cut and dug and built. She stitched and cooked and taught. They were team. They were inseparable. Until that one fateful day. A day she’ll never forget. A day when his look was not the same.
The riders weren’t coming in fast, but they were coming in sure. They rode right up to their little home and briskly approached her husband. After a brief visit they rode off in the same manner they had come. Her husband watched their every move until they cleared over the horizon. His head dropped and he looked up at her with a different look in his eyes. She had never seen this gaze before. He had changed. In one second. He had changed. And to her, everything had changed. She knew in just one glance into his clear blue eyes that nothing would be the same.
She would hear all about the war the rest of the night. She would know all about the needs arising in some far corner of their new and fledgling country. But she would never understand why he had to respond. Why did he have to be the one to meet those needs. Certainly, she now knew that the country was being invaded, and she knew that the country needed to be protected. But, in her heart, she would always question, “…why do you have to be the one to go?” She would never ever share those thoughts with him. For, she now knew that her husband had already changed. There was something inside her that let her know that there wasn’t anything she could say that would sway his resolve. And, she knew that something inside her didn’t want him to be swayed. She had always admired that about him. His–sometimes hard-to-deal-with–determination. He was bound by duty and he was bound by honor. It didn’t matter if the invasion was on the other coast of their country. It mattered not one difference to him. Principle had called, and he would heed its voice no matter the cost. He was always a protector and a provider. And so, before he left, he had made sure the neighbors knew that he was leaving and may not return. He had also stored up enough money and resources that would last his little family of six long enough for his oldest son to be old enough to step in and provide. Nevertheless, she still wanted him to stay. She would silently cry herself to sleep that night and for many nights to come.
The pop of an old seasoned oak log on the fire brought her back to the moment when she was opening the letter. Her four children had waited so patiently, and so she opened it and slowly began to read what her new government had written her:
“We are pleased to announce that the war has ended. The victory belongs to those who fought for honor…for principle…for purpose…for country…for the future. Many everyday citizens heeded duty’s call on the principle of providing a better country for their children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and beyond. To those brave warriors, this country will never be able to pay back the debt. However, we remain committed to the principles and purpose that we–as a country–made many years ago. Principles and purpose founded upon a biblical standard of right and wrong. Of health and human flourishing. Those principles and that purpose were upheld to the end.
As such, it is our honor and duty now to inform you that your brave warrior is coming home. Lord willing, he will be with you before Christmas in time to celebrate our Lord’s birth.”
She dropped the letter. She shrieked in excitement. He’s coming home. We won. He’ll be home before Christmas.
That celebration lasted only for about a day or two. Each night seemed to be building anticipation upon anticipation until they all thought they would break. Slowly, Christmas Eve had arrived. Dusk on that cold night had settled upon them. That fire-warmed room still felt so cold.
Supper finished quietly, and the children lay on their spread-out blankets on the wood floor right up next to the warm fire. They had just read the letter again, as they had each night since they had received it a couple weeks ago. Now, it was laying on the floor next to mother. The Christmas tree was lit, and its colorful lights were casting mysterious glimmers across the walls. Presents were neatly nestled under the branches, and the evening was slowly turning into night. Mother was reading–as she always did at this time of day–in her rocking chair, and she was quietly humming her favorite Christmas hymn, “O Come O Come Emmanuel.”
No one held out hope anymore for his return before Christmas. And mother let them know that they should all get up now and snuggle into their warm beds before it got to late.
As they were getting up, suddenly she heard a noise outside the door. She froze. “Should she open it up and look outside? That would certainly get the children’s hopes up too much,” she thought to herself. She didn’t know what to do. She listened hard again. Seconds clicked by. And then she saw what it was. A little rabbit had jumped across the snow and was snuggling into its own bed inside the brush pile next to the cattle pen.
She sighed and turned to walk the children to their rooms when she felt a swift draft of freezing cold air sweep up her back and give her chills. She turned around as fast as she could and looked into the eyes of the man she had married 12 years ago. He had been gone for two years and now he was standing before her looking more strong and brave than ever before. So many memories flooded her mind. She sat there speechless…looking into his clear blue and kind eyes. Tears began to stream down her face. His eyes filled with tears too and they fell down upon the dusty wood floor. She rushed into his arms and he held her tight into his chest. He smelled like a man. He embraced her with his arms and she fell deeper and deeper into his warm chest covered by a snowy wool coat. The children cried out in joy and jumped up and down repeating, “Daddy, you’re home. Daddy, you’re home. You made it before Christmas.”
Here we stand. Christians, all around the world. Here we stand. Waiting for our long expected Jesus. Our brave Warrior. He fought our battles. He won the war. We, though lost, can be saved. By grace through faith in the finished work of our Christ, the Lord. A sin-invasion occurred. Our Lord responded. He won. He won.
Merry Christmas 2019. May your anticipation for Christ be met with His peace and love. May you see Him this year in love and mercy. May you learn to walk in His steps. Amen and Amen.
“So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger.”
Luke 2:16