Slightly Obsessed #054 "The Heart of a Child" (Weekly Devo) by Pamela Thorson on 2013-12-11 09:04:01
But Jesus said, “Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” –Matthew 19:14
We started celebrating Christmas early the year our daughter flew out with her family for the holidays. Long before Thanksgiving, we were planning events and buying gifts. Christmas mingled with—and finally pre-empted—the turkey and harvest, creating a manic mix of fall colors and jingle bells. Competing Christmas songs played on opposite sides of the house, and we watched a gaggle of Christmas videos—sometimes twice.
Perhaps we were a tad over-zealous that year. But after years of disappointments and heartaches, it just felt good to have an excuse to celebrate.
Christmas is my favorite holiday most any year. I nearly always overdo it, and here is a part of the season I always put away with a sigh.
It’s the child in me, the one who never grew too old to believe in miracles. The older I get, the more I miss the wide-eyed little girl who lay awake most of the night listening for sleigh bells and who bounced out of bed before first light to run breathlessly to the tree.
I miss running in bare feet on cold floors, eating guiltless plates of cookies, playing outside in the snow until my toes were numb, and not knowing that drinking homemade egg nog could make me sick.
I especially miss believing that the golden glow of the season is real.
Somewhere along the way, the child in me got trampled, starved, and seriously sick. She grew too sad to dream or let hope out to play. Somewhere along the way, a tired cynicism replaced the wonder.
Somehow, the child grew into an old woman.
That won’t do anymore. This Christmas, I opened my present early. I found the box my heart had been hidden in. There she was: an innocent babe locked in the stinking barn of this world, a precious child of faith.
Oh, those trusting eyes! See how she reaches for her Father! What a gift from God!
She has waited so long for me to come for her. I want to hold her close and never let her go.
I think I’ll name her Joy.
O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born in us today.
About Pamela Thorson:
Pamela Thorson is a licensed practical nurse, author, and full-time caregiver. She pioneered in the homeschooling movement from 1982-2006 and authored her first book, Song in the Night, in 2008. She resides in the Northwest with her family.
Find the GOLD in people. If you only see fault, error, wrongs, sins, and what is bad, in people, then you have no time to love them. You cannot judge people and love people, at the same time, which is why the Word of God instructs us to look for what is good in people. When we look for the good, in people, we are choosing to see people through the eyes of God.
Slightly Obsessed #212: Believe
Sometimes it feels like just getting out of bed sets us up for defeat. But we shouldn’t be surprised. God clued us in thousands of years ago in the book of Job when He warned us that we are born for trouble as surely as sparks from a fire will fly up into the sky.
Slightly Obsessed #211: Can a Worm Fly?
Darkness is God’s secret place, where He fashions a new creation away from the prying eyes of His enemies. In the chrysalis of the closet, He plans and weaves and forms His beloved into something that will burst forth with joy at the proper season.
Slightly Obsessed #210: Arise
A few short moments taken to restore a woman to health had kept Jesus from the bedside of a girl who lay dying. Messengers arrived with the news that Jairus’ little daughter was dead, striking fear in his heart as they destroyed the hope to which he clung.
Slightly Obsessed #209: Look Up
An ancient king faced certain destruction as enemy warriors amassed before him in a surprise attack. His response is our answer for the trials that threaten to destroy us today.
Slightly Obsessed #208: Scorched by Trial
In the gray dawn of another day, I am spent. I can pray no more. There are no more words I can say, no entreaty with which to reach my Master. As the night shadows fade before the rising sun, I open my Bible. In the space between darkness and light, I need to hear His voice.