I was standing at my kitchen sink crying and smiling this morning as I washed my grandmother’s Christmas Rose, China, and some of my mom’s serving pieces that I now own. I noticed the strong incongruence in my soul. There I stood, looking out at the frigid, yet beautiful, weather on the eve of such a glorious day, a broken heart full of broken pictures as the ballad of my soul played its hymn; this is not how it is supposed to be. But then there was an accompanying melody of, thank you, Jesus, for how it was. Imperfect moments, incomplete holidays accompanied by irreplaceable memories; both beauty and brokenness reigned there in the ordinary, yet extraordinary moment at my kitchen window.

This year, I have followed countless stories of friends, family, and strangers near and far as they have navigated some of the most ruthless roads. Their stories tell of the same sentiment, hurting but not deprived of hope. Their paths are oxymorons, and the perplexing weight of that juxtaposition is heavy. Fractured people, fractured countries, a fractured world, but all encapsulated by a forever kind of grace that guides us through the weary when we cannot feel or see her presence. It is not supposed to be this way, but it is. It is hard but not absent of holy!

A couple of Christmases ago, as I was sitting in a Christmas Eve service singing Silent Night while lighting the candles. God showed me a picture. For the dormant candles to be kindled, the light from our neighbor must remain upright and firm, while the one receiving the light must bend, lean, and become vulnerable, to be ignited. At times we are the beacons, and at times we are the broken. We each have light to give and light to receive, but the cycle cannot be sustained without both the shattering and the shining of souls.

The examples of the ever-present and unchanging reality, the union of beauty and brokenness, are more pervasive than I can list. They are present in every moment and every memory, our tears, our triumphs, our pain and passions, our struggles, and our strengths. Where there is beauty, there will always be brokenness, and it was that way from the beginning.

I am thankful that The Son of God, The King of the world, was born in a dirty stable and laid in a messy manger. The Light of the world, God’s most perfect gift, a Savior for the world, entered this life, and surrounding His arrival was beautiful and broken. Broken circumstances, broken parents, broken leaders, broken countries, and broken plans were the backdrops that set the stage for the most handsome inheritance the world would ever know. It reminds and comforts me when life is not congruent with my heart; it remains in the care of my Savior’s hands. More often than not, it is a fight to remember, and that is alright as long as the fight goes on.

Many of you are experiencing the poverty of loss, illness, and other difficult circumstances this Christmas Eve. I pray you find strength from the life of a baby born into bankrupt surroundings, who suffered among both the sick and the “sufficient” so that He may bring the beauty of His perfect light to mingle among the broken parts of our lives. Jesus, give us eyes to see your grace flowing through our moments of grief, and may that console, sustain, and encourage us through mangled moments as we journey Home.

Merry Christmas, friends!