“Unto us a child is born, and He shall be called Prince of Peace.” ~ Isaiah 9:6
Rochester began to change two weeks before Christmas. Not
all at once, not with spectacle, but with a quiet Grace that softly transformed
everything it touched.
Mornings grew quieter. The air seemed softer, as if it had
learned how to whisper. Frost traced the windows in graceful patterns, not
sharp or severe, but delicate as lace. Even the cold seemed to tread lightly.
People moved differently. At the corner café, a hurried man
paused to hold open the door. A woman counting coins at the register found the
exact change and smiled like it was a small miracle. Even the old bell above
the shop door rang warmer, glad the season was drawing near.
Evelyn tightened her scarf, clutching a box of hand-knitted
hats she’d made for the shelter. This year has been difficult. Loss had left
deep hollows; prayers had sometimes felt unanswered, and her once-steady faith
frayed at the edges. Still, Christmas was coming - a gentle promise that hope
could still find its way in.
At the corner, she spotted an elderly man struggling with
his shovel. Without thinking, she set down her box and stepped in to help. When
the path was clear, he looked at her with grateful eyes and whispered, “Bless
you!” in a voice that signaled a gift had passed between them.
Further down the street, children laughed as snowflakes
chased them with joy ringing clearer than the bells that would soon call the
town to worship. At the shelter, hats warmed cold heads, hearts warmed, and smiles
returned. Gratitude blossomed in small, holy ways.
Sunday evening, candlelight filled the sanctuary. Flames
flickered, soothing weary faces and easing old burdens. As the choir sang Silent
Night, the room seemed to breathe as one. It felt as though God Himself had
passed gently among them, reminding the world of a child born into darkness to
bring Light. The pastor read aloud, “Fear not… I bring you good tidings of
great joy.”
Evelyn felt something loosen inside her. Christmas, she
realized, wasn’t magic. It was mercy. God stepping into the world early,
patiently, making what was hard a little softer, what was broken quietly
beautiful.
As she stepped back into the night, the snow was turning to
rain. Evelyn smiled, lifting her face in quiet gratitude, not because every
burden was gone, but because hope had arrived ahead of time.
That’s Christmas! Doing what it always does, bringing Christ
near.
Lord Jesus, thank You for coming near to us.
Soften our hearts where life has been hard, and let Your peace lift all we
carry. As You entered the world in humility and love, enter our lives again
this Christmas. Make us gentle, grateful, and filled with hope. Amen
