God Rest Ye Weary Women

God rest ye dear ones

~ who get the weary more than the merry part of Christmas

~ for whom December is a dark and dreary month wherein you just wish to get alone and weep for all the gathered losses of the past year

~ who have not enough reserve energy for navigating the tension, the indifference, the silent hostilities that are sure to show up at Christmas Dinner with the family

~ who were so looking forward to being with family after months (or years) of absence but whose plans have been dashed by pandemic-related restrictions of some kind

~ whose physical pain is intense or chronic, or both

~ who believe that your baby who cries half the night and your preschoolers who bicker half the day are not only stereotypical little people but terribletypical as well 

~ whose Christmas season will be the first one without the child or spouse or parent or good friend you lost this year

~ who are so bound to perfectionism that you want even your failures to come off looking pretty decent

~ who have had unspeakable things done to you

~ whose identity has long been tied to performing and producing - the more, the better

~ for whom Christmas will happen in a hospital at the bedside of a loved one dealing with cancer

~ whose mother-heart throbs with pain over the choices of a wayward child 

~ who are being held hostage, literally or figuratively

~ who compare yourselves among your co-workers' or inlaws' or peers' or you-name-thems' selves and feel you will never measure up

~ who aren't sure you have enough time or nerves to practice the school program on repeat these days, or enough hope that your students will truly get their act together before performance night

~ for whom Going Home For Christmas is only a dream and not a reality because your foreign mission station is too remote or your finances are too slim or your health and safety risk is too great to do so

You, weary ones, don't let anything bring you dismay, because Jesus Christ, your Savior - your Salvager - has come!

And, as Ann Voskamp puts it, your ache is not the last word, Jesus is.

Rest assured that He is your Comfort and Joy. 

Rest merry for He is your Present Gift.

Rest, dear ones, rest.

                        (for the heart-sisters I meet with regularly or irregularly and for those heart-sisters I have never met, but would like to)