Do You Hear What I Hear?

Carefully, tenderly, I unwrapped the glass angel from its protective bubble-wrap. Lifting miniature decoration, ready to place on tree, I noticed the missing arm. Gazing at her misshapen body, her one-armed pose, I wanted to be mad, or blame bubble-wrap or worse, put her back inside box. Unadored. Forgotten. Unshared. My hand stilled, cradling ornament, and I wondered at the brokenness, the hollow grief of past weeks. Of lives forever changed, mourning, weeping hearts. Holding delicate angel, I took in two gold wings, halo and one slender left arm. Can I keep this up, this thank you through tragedy and unexplainable acts of terror? To say yes when head hangs down from news and senseless violence? Holding angel in my palm, a resting place for all wounded and pierced, this is side of hand I humbly turned toward December sky, to the One who has power to comfort, massage the black spots in bleeding hearts. Oh, breath of heaven, pour down on us. Blind us with thy perfect light. Timidly at first, a whispered thank you, a yes breath of praise, braiding cords of hope like string of white lights. Thank you for one-armed angels. Thank you for pastor's and friends and world who cry to heaven for those grieving, bent in anguish, tears rushing like loosened dams. Twenty-six bells ringing, angel's tears surely spilling, two more bells to hear, and I think world is listening. Slipping gold string around Noble Fir branch, I hung glass angel, and inhaled deep breath of promise. The kind of promise that transforms ugly into beautiful, impossible into possible, weak into powerful. Do you hear what I hear?  Said the king to the people everywhere, listen to what I say, pray for peace people everywhere...The babe's weapon was love, and for that I humbly, passionately, adoringly, give thanks.