shadowwonder

Silent night. Holy night. Now is calm. All is quiet. Family—father, mother, child. Day’s work ceases; rest awhile. Sleep in dreams of peace. Sleep in dreams of peace. Shining dawn. Shadow falls. Children quake at the sight.
 Evil streams its blackness nigh, scatters heart-rent stain.   All cry: “Human darkness, born!" Christ, our darkness born. Silent night. Desperate night. Son of God.  Love’s pure light? Sorrow's trail on mother’s face blurs all vision. Hidden grace. Plead “Emmanuel." Come, Emmanuel. Silent light.   Holy light. Cure our souls. Heal our blight. Cancel Darkness, take its place. World relent to redeeming Grace. Bring Your promised peace. Christ! Oh be our Peace.

More than a few passengers in my Honda Pilot have commented on the odd combination of items dangling from my rearview mirror:    A leather cross received from a Baylor friend, a free coffee pass from Einstein’s Bagels (better get some before it expires!), and a charm my Camp Ozark buddy, Robin, gave me last August. It says “Noticed.”   A word that conveys a powerful message. For when I’m noticed, I am . . . . Seen. Known. Recognized. Approved. Accepted. Favored. Understood. Appreciated. Maybe even cherished. The coffee coupon and the cross on my “car necklace” aren’t so surprising. But the pendant?    It’s a little more telling.   Because—for better or for worse—I long for someone to notice how I’m . . . .                     Living my life.                     Parenting my children.                     Talking to my husband.                     Interacting with my students.                     Keeping my house.