This Is Where You Find Comfort This Christmas

by | Dec 25, 2022 | Celebration, Grief, Peace

Even without eyesight, I was determined to decorate the house—using my sense of touch and by memory. I placed the nativity scene it the center of the family room, then, I found the perfect spot for red and green candles, music boxes with winter scenes, and bright red poinsettias.

Next, I retrieved three stockings to fill the marked places above the fireplace. Using my fingertips, I felt each of our sons’ embroidered names: Jason, Jeff, and Joe. Once Jason and Jeff’s were hung, with tears burning my eyes, I clutched Joe’s against my chest.

The empty stocking seared my heart.

Although it had been years since Joe was called to his heavenly home, his absence left an emptiness we could almost touch.

In spite of decorations, Christmas didn’t call for a celebration. Not anymore. Not when you have a vital part of your life missing. Even Christmas carols lose their happy melody. When tragedy turns our world upside down, like cobwebs, dark clouds encircle us.

One night while the family slept. I sat in silence, my heart cried out to the Lord, asking Him to lift me from that dark pit. I asked and begged Him to calm my shaky world and to remove the sorrow.

For the longest time, I sat in silence, inhaling God’s Word. As a hush surrounded me, I waited like the psalmist did.

…I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth…” (Psalm 40:1-3 NIV)

One by one I opened God’s gifts: He did hear my prayers, He placed a song of hope in my heart, He wiped the tears, and He infused a ray of peace.

God has the same gifts prepared for you.

He’s close enough to hear your prayers. He saw you fall into that pit. He hears your sobs, sees your tears, and knows your hope that’s about to end.

But more importantly, He observes your feeble efforts to fix what’s broken in your life. I tried to do that myself. When I was sighted, I battled to fix a burned bulb on a string of lights. I replaced it, changed it again, plugged and unplugged. Nothing.

Then when frustration won, I plopped on the couch. As I exhaled a long breath, my gaze landed on the bright star on top of the tree. It glistened, giving off a bright glow of hope.

That’s the very star that calls you and me to stop, to ponder, to inhale its beauty. And to allow it to shine through the darkness of our pain.

Jesus speaks to that darkness: “I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star” (Revelation 22:16 NIV).

The meaning of that Star dried my own tears. I hung Joe’s stocking. It wasn’t empty anymore. It was filled with sweet memories of his hugs, kisses, and fun moments with him. On that Christmas day, comfort was born.

If you look up, you’ll see the sparkle of God’s comfort, removing the cobwebs of pain and erasing your dark moments. That same bright Morning Star shines to give you hope, to return what you lost. To ease your grief, to make you whole, and to repair the strands you cannot fix.

Prayer: Father, you said in this world there will be trouble. And I praise You because through those troubles, your light shines bright for me to see the path to restoration, to peace and to the comfort my heart cries for. In Jesus’ name.

Where will you find comfort this Christmas?

Janet P. Eckles


This Is Where You Find Comfort This Christmas