Did Mary know Isaiah’s gist
and did her pure heart quail
to see each soft and perfect wrist
rent by an iron nail?
Or was she somehow shielded
from what must one day be?
Were the terrors gently fielded
by God as she took a knee?
I’d like to think He gave her
both peace and wisdom too;
her Christmas Night made sweeter
by what she must pass through.
It’s bittersweet chiaroscuro, this story
where the shadow gives the light its glory.
I think there's a bit of this on the cancer journey, too. I see a situation that deteriorates every day, with nights that are frankly brutal and days that are worse.
And yet...the enveloping quality of the darkness makes the lights in my life all the brighter. The love of my wife and my friends and my dogs, the small physical victories of fabricating a piece of faceless steel into something useful, and the glory of the stars shimmering in a frosty sky...
I took these for granted before.
I see them now not because I likely won't be around to see them for long, but because their intrinsic beauty and wonder is clearer now.
No longer is the light of my own ego isn't competing with the light of God's blessings.
Here's my very favourite Christmas carol, Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls. I hope you'll enjoy it.
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.