Christmas Day is over. Maybe like me, you still have lots of celebrating to do, but the greatest festivities are finished. As I sit quietly during the pre-dawn hours the day after Christmas, I thoughtfully reflect.
I adore the stillness of my living room; with only the tree lights glowing and a balsam candle scenting the air.
I quietly give thanks for God for the big blessings: salvation through Christ, my family, my home, my health.
And then the little things: the peace of this precious moment.
My mind drifts to my history with the Lord. The great miracles I have experienced, and the “small” moments I inexplicably felt His presence. I recall how many prayers He answered in the most surprising of ways, and a few prayers that are still teaching me patience as I await the results.
“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19 (NIV) (Luke 2:51 carries a similar sentiment as well.)
Mary’s reactions gives me a glimpse into my own humanity.
God is so great, I simply cannot comprehend all He does. Neither could Mary.
In this rat race rush of my scattered schedule I call life, I need to stop, treasure, and ponder.
I often think I cannot afford to stop. While I do have many people relying on me, including a child with a chronic illness, God knows my load. And He will help me define a few margins, if I ask. Maybe like me, you sometimes forget He loves with wild abandon and wants to help His humans. Maybe like me, you too need a chance to stop.
To create a chance to stop.
I learned to create mine by rising before the rest of my household. I descend down the stairs to sit in a quiet living room, creating a (temporarily!) calm place where I can sit, treasure, and ponder.
Maybe like me, the past decade has had many blessings for sure, but also contains a load of heartache. Maybe, there are many moments you feel decades older than physical age might suggest. I find it’s in those moments especially, I must treasure the blessings. I must remind myself of them, and I must treasure them, never letting go of their memory. God promises to never leave us nor forsake us. I have my own accounting of fulfillment of that promise. I bet you do too. Recall it often.
Invariably, as I sit there, savoring the soft glow of the tree lights and the warmth from the cup in my hands, my thoughts turn towards experiences that left me wondering. In amazement I recall how, when at the very end of me, a prayer from a friend who had no idea my plight, popped up in a message. She could not have know. Yet, He did. I bet you have moments you reflect on and wonder about too.
Mary did the very same. We read that she “treasured all these things in her heart.”
As we approach the end of one year and the beginning of another, it might be good practice to stop, treasure and ponder. To sit and reflect, to praise and thank, and to trust Him with what is still waiting.
He is the God who sees. He is the God who hears. He is the God who can be trusted. He will never leave nor forsake.
Let’s stop and recount those promises. Treasure His faithfulness. And ponder how we may ask Him to intervene, allowing Him to work things as only He can, for our good.
Prayer: Thank You, Father, for constantly caring for me, for my heart’s burdens. Thank You for Your faithfulness, Your promises I can count on. Thank You for Your ability to always weave all things together for my good. Please help me to stop, treasure and ponder, growing in You with each step. In Jesus name, Amen.