It’s beginning to look a lot like that annual festive season,
But I’m not feeling so cheery and for a good reason.
There is an empty seat at the table and a missing impish grin,
And all the frivolous merriment is honestly wearing quite thin.
Every merry season’s greeting seems to sting by default,
And I cannot tell if it’s an antiseptic or if it is salt.
Still, under all the hollow exuberance is something I cannot deny,
A Hope so deep and true that runs steadily though all else has gone awry.
This pain is real, but it is not a reality in a vacuum alone,
There is also a gracious comfort, more than I’ve ever known.
Emmanuel is still Emmanuel and no pain can scare Him away,
He still draws near to the brokenhearted and weary today.
Yes, there is a dark shadow cast by death and loss,
But I cannot deny the juxtaposition of Hope from a manger and a cross.
And here I find, that grief and joy collide,
For even the deepest darkness cannot find a place to hide.
There is still light shining brightly in this season,
I cannot look away from it and for a good reason.