Normally I like to keep my letters and talks with You to myself. Which my blog readers should be thankful for, cause we ALL know how I like to talk and write.
But for some reason, I feel my heart being pricked to be open about my letter to You tonight.
I honestly don’t have a specific thought or concern, though I have tons of each. All I know is that I keep feeling something inside my heart that can only be said in a very specific way:
I feel like a kid the night before Christmas.
Now, I have serious reservations about even the mere mention of Christmas anytime before Thanksgiving. Christmas has become so commercialized that we are jaded to its true meaning. And I’m the first to admit I would rather celebrate Easter. That’s when You really did something incredible.
But I digress.
A kid the night before Christmas. That’s precisely how I feel.
Granted I have had the flu this week and am currently writing this letter with various OTC medicines in my system and wearing my green monkey pajammers, so a kid mentality isn’t really a stretch. It seldom is.
But tonight, I am filled to the gills with a nervous energy. Like something is going to happen tomorrow that changes everything. Do I know what it is? Not even a clue. Will I know it when I see it? Boy, I sure hope so.
But UNLIKE a kid at Christmas, I know that not all gifts come to us at once. Sometimes, they take years to unfold. Maybe a wonderful gift that is in store for me is started into motion. So maybe I won’t see it at all. Perhaps I won’t see it for a long time. But I will know it’s there- moving, alive, in action.
I'm pretty sure I sound like a babbling idiot. But I know what I mean. I hope others do too.
And I’d rather be a kid the night before Christmas than a kid the night before parent teacher conferences. That is not a good feeling at all.
I’ve lived that way for a lot of my life. That feeling that the dam is going to break any moment. That any second now my life is going to bust into a million pieces and I will be left shattered. I have played out that scenario over and over again in my head. That feeling of dread. Uncertainty. Impending doom.
But the night before Christmas, well- that’s all about hope! Possibilities! Unknown gifts that were intended only for us. Not because we deserve them. But because we have someone who loves us. We are the apple of someone’s eye.
We are cherished and spoiled on Christmas morning. There is no mention of diets or failures or shortcomings on Christmas morning. There is only the feverish unwrapping of delightful things that bring joy and unmerited favor.
I have no idea what You are planning for me tomorrow, God. Only YOU know what is in store for me. I have many requests out there floating around. Some are selfish, like for a big house of our very own. Some are reverent and constant, like for immediate healing of people I love. Some are out and out silly, like to win the lottery. But they are all heartfelt, and each one could be hiding just around the corner.
Because You have my list.
More importantly, You have my number.
You know exactly what I can handle, and when the time is right. I’m glad You are omnipotent enough to realize I ask for impossible things, and know gosh darn good and well I couldn’t handle them.
Just like losing weight. I BEG You to make me skinny overnight. But YOU choose to let me win this battle day in and day out, so I won’t ever take it for granted. So that it won’t seem like a miracle, but a hard fought battle that I walked away from victorious. Bruised and battered, to be sure. But confident that it has remained important enough to keep working for, and worth enjoying.
So, whatever it is You are cooking up for me there in the clouds (or wherever you reside- I really don’t care what neighborhood You are in, as long as we can find each other!) I am excited. I will take whatever it is with joy and jubilation. Your blessings will delight me tomorrow. No matter how they are wrapped.
So, that’s my letter to You tonight. Let tomorrow be amazing. Let me dance with happiness.
And seriously, I wouldn’t hate it if You reconsidered the skinny overnight request.
More love than I could ever express-