Every Christmas there’s a moment, while decorating the tree, when I come across a humble angle ornament. A crack edged with yellowing glue and a chipped wing doesn’t diminish the value of this precious bit of glass. In fact, I’ll never forget the night or the desperate prayer of a homesick, eleven-year-old girl . . .
“Swaziland was exotic but the primitiveness accosted my tender senses. The adjustments to my new surroundings were hardest on all of us at Christmas time. In the Southern Hemisphere December means summer, and this was just too difficult to get used to. I wanted a white Christmas! Our first steamy Christmas Eve, I was grumpy and frustrated. I stomped my foot and shot an angry prayer to God. I figured since he had gotten us into this mess, then he should do something about it!
‘God,’ I pouted. ‘why can’t you make it feel more like home?’ Within seconds a huge gust of wind poured through our open windows, bringing our Christmas tree crashing down on the parquet floor, followed by a roar of cold rain pounding on our tin roof. Immediately my family all rushed into the living room to gather scattered ornaments and right the fallen tree. By the time we had salvaged our Christmas, we found ourselves shoulder to shoulder staring at the miracle before our eyes. A chill and fallen over the air with the darkened sky, and a hush fell over all of us as we saw the miracle in the backyard. Light sparkled off a crystal clear whiteness that covered the ground like a solid blanket. While we had been scurrying to save our possessions inside, it had hailed outside, covering the backyard with ice. Christmas! It was the first time God had shown up for me. I was duly impressed, and admittedly a little spooked.” Excerpt from Pieces of Glass.
Do you have a miraculous moment? Stories matter. . . share yours today.
May your Christmas be filled with wonder this year,
