Over the past while, my mind has wandered to various Christmases and holidays through the years,
but for some reason, this morning I have been remembering the Christmas season of my eighth year. That year, my third-grade class put on a Christmas play about the birth of the Savior (something you would never see now.) We weren't dressed in costumes, but it was more a play of remembrance. The teacher assigned me a small part in which I would carry the frankincense and place it on the floor next to the gold in front of the manger. Since the teacher was narrating, I wasn't even required to speak, just carry the frankincense.
I was a very shy little girl, with good reason, and the teacher was trying to help me with this simple little part. I could never really look anyone in the eye and I constantly stared at the ground. The teacher demonstrated how I should carry the frankincense - that I should hold the small, gold sparkly canister out in front of me, moving it from side to side, walk slowly, look at the classmates in front of me on the stage, and smile. She also told me I would need to wear a pretty dress. I suddenly did not want to be in the play, but the teacher wouldn't let me back out. The woman knew nothing about my home life or the abuse I dealt with on a regular basis, but I think she glimpsed pain in me, which is why she tried so hard to help me.
She sent a note home with all the students to give to our parents about the play and what we would need. And somehow, my mother managed to find a beautiful dress for me to wear for the play. It was long and yellow, with white tulle and polka dots, and a satin ribbon around the waist that my mother tied into a big bow. She did my hair in the usual braids and tied a yellow bow around the braid at the crown. For the first time ever, I felt like an angel. When I got to the school, the teacher told me how lovely I looked. I wasn't used to compliments, and happiness and discomfort warred within me. Mama watched the play, and though I still didn't smile and barely raised my eyes as I walked, she said I did well. (She was Mama, so of course, she would say that.)
In the past, whenever I have thought back on that Christmas, as well as the ones after that, all that would come to mind was the sexual abuse that I never seem to be free of, even during this season of Christ, but by the grace of God, this year, my mind did not go there. Instead, my memories are of that Christmas play and the dress that made me feel like an angel as I walked up to place the canister of frankincense before the manger where the Christ child lay.
It is hard to find the words to tell you what a tender mercy this is.
Thinking back on it now, I can almost picture my Savior standing near me on stage saying, "I accept your offering. And though the days will soon come when all this hurt will leave you stumbling and cause you to lose your way, don't worry and don't lose hope, for it will only be for a little season, and you will find Me again. For you will never be lost to Me."
Even now, I am teary as I write this because I feel His love so strongly, surrounding me, and His arms enfolding me. And all I can think is, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for finding that lost little girl. Thank you for showing her how truly amazing this life is. Thank you for showing her every day what You have done for her, and what You continue to do for her. Thank you for replacing all that pain with pure joy - joy in knowing that I have never been forgotten, and I never will be."
This is the joy Jesus Christ offers us. This is the gift His life and sacrifice have made possible for each and every one of us. We are His, and He is ours. He has sealed this promise with His blood - the promise of pure joy in Him.
May we all accept His gift, cling to it, and never let it go.
