Christmas & Kinfolk

Family~kin or kinfolk we call them here in Kentucky. Although Jersey-born, I love that term so much more than relatives or relations.

As we celebrate the birth of The Son of God, I'm reminded of the bond I share with Him through adoption~when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Kinsman Redeemer. If you've received Him as your Savior, you're also adopted...and we're kin!

We used to sing There's a Song in the Air, a carol nearly lost today. Those lyrics penned by Josiah G. Holland~one of my kin from eons ago~I now share with you. Blessed Christmas!

There’s a song in the air! There’s a star in the sky!
There’s a mother’s deep prayer and a baby’s low cry!
And the star rains its fire while the beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King!
               There’s a tumult of joy o’er the wonderful birth,
               For the virgin’s sweet Boy is the Lord of the earth.
               Ay! the star rains its fire while the beautiful sing,
               For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King!
                              In the light of that star lie the ages impearled;
                              And that song from afar has swept over the world.
                              Every hearth is aflame, and the beautiful sing
                              In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King!
                                             We rejoice in the light, and we echo the song
                                             That comes down through the night from the heavenly throng.
                                             Ay! we shout to the lovely evangel they bring,
                                            And we greet in His cradle our Savior and King!

Facing The Holidays~Part One

Those who’ve been through painful circumstances struggle even more this time of year. Back in 1999 I wrote an article for New York State VOCAL (Victims Of Child Abuse Laws—my husband and I, members). We’d not only been falsely accused and charged, but we faced court as well. The following is the first portion of that article from twelve years ago.

Our attic contained many boxes, but one intrusive pile represented painfully fresh memories. Christmas passed, and gifts to all the children were given—all but one child, that is. Our oldest, a sixteen-year-old missing runaway, not only falsely accused us but hadn’t come home either. Unopened gifts bearing her name now contained the year “1996.”

Four sons still lived at home, all anticipating holiday celebration. Yet my husband and I dreaded the thought of anything joyful. We needed to grieve, but our parental “duty” required mustering up courage to make it through—“for the boys’ sake.”

We prepared as usual, with a few changes, as if to disguise our pain. The usual also included buying gifts for our daughter. Afterward, placing them in the attic bore a heaviness akin to placing a monument on a grave. The time was desperately hard, and we grieved. We grieved, but we survived.

We are now approaching Christmas number four since that first one. This holiday does not crouch or pounce upon us. Neither did the first in reality. Christmas has not changed. We have.

Christmas—birth of Hope and Peace! God in the form of a baby came down at a time when a government set out to destroy hope and peace on earth. So it was for us—a governmental system encroached upon us. Yet God provided a Way to lead us through by providing a Savior.

Part Two—next week