The star of Bethlehem is dense with meaning. It inspires wonder and mystery. But most of all, as illuminated as it was, it sought only to draw attention to the light of Christ.
Over the past couple of months, the Lord has been challenging my sincerity of surrendering to His Divine Will. “I want everything,” He said, “your livelihood and wellbeing, your pain, your suffering. Your children, and their pain, their suffering. Their very lives. Could you hand them over to me?”
“Remind yourself of this constantly and strongly establish this truth in your spirit and in your heart that the best way, and even the infallible way, of being in continual prayer is to keep one’s soul at peace before the Lord.” Venerable Father Francois-Marie-Paul Libermann Before having children of my own, I had heard all the complaints that parents who had come before me had about taking care of newborns. The sleep deprivation, the constant crying, the utter delirium that takes hold. What I had heard less often, quite rarely in fact, was the way love can pervade the monotonous routine when you stop thinking about yourself, and how you can fully experience the present moment, and fully delight in it, despite the trials that persist.
Pitch black. I feel the walls on every side of me, above me, and below me. I’ve been trapped before, but it seems like the walls have grown taller, more dense, more suffocating. I start punching and kicking my way out. And as I kick, I grow, until I’ve become too big for the box to contain. I don’t fit inside your box anymore. I never did, but now it’s clear to you.