Satan's Elves

O.K.! So don't freak out and call me crazy, but I've been thinking about Christmas and how we as believers in Jesus seem to get pulled away from the reason for this season. Then I began thinking about elves. Not the beautiful, serene elves in the Lord of the Rings series, but the wierd little Christmas elves. You know the ones- they are small and have distorted ears and their voices are really high and squeaky. Their job is to bring us to Santa and encourage us to sit on his lap (what's up with that?) and tell him what things we want. ANd then the elves give us sugar while Santa tells us that we will only get what we want if we are good. They also help Santa fill his sleigh with all our "toys" in some place that no one has never been to or seen. So this is the crazy part. What if Christmas elves are really Satan's elves used to lure us away from worshipping and celebrating Jesus and all the gifts He came to give. Come on, no one knows where the elves come from or how they get into every mall in our country. There must be an elf army that train all year how they will infiltrate our T.V.'s and our schools. We don't even see them coming. At least there is some truth to the story of Santa. What's the story of the elf? I think Satan devised a plan to use Christmas elves to keep our focus on Santa (the antichrist?) and all he stands for. The perfect gift, the tallest tree, the best bargain, the most beautiful table decorations and the tastiest food on the table. Think about it..... the shepherds knew what they were searching for. They left their fields to find it. The wise men knew what they were searching for. They even brought gifts to honor him. They were searching for a new Kingdom. A baby that would one day rule that Kingdom. A King that would meet our every need. See our every hurt. Heal our every wound. A King that would bring forgiveness and fill us with his love. A promise of a life after death in his presence and an abundant life here on earth. So what are you searching for? The perfect..... marraige, relationship, comfort, house, body? Take a glimpse of Perfection! The Perfect One has come. Immanuel- God with us! If we choose to search for him, he promises that we will find him! ANd you will never be the same again! This Christmas I am compelled to gaze into the eyes of the One I worship. And to not forget what my heart is truly searching for. I love Christmas just as much as the next gal, but the next time you are Christmas shopping in the mall, take a look at the Christmas elves. I will never look at them the same way again.

The Porch Light

I held her in my arms in the therapist’s office. I had never been able to hold her when she was a baby, toddler or even a pre-schooler. As I looked into her eyes there was so much I wanted her to see in mine. The regrets of not seeing her brokenness. The way I let her push me away. My own walls I put up so that she could not hurt me. It was a battle of the broken…. She threw her poisonous darts to hurt me so that I would stay away, because the love of a mother scared her too much. And I put up my walls so those darts would not hurt so much. I didn’t know what she needed and so she didn’t get it. Don’t get me wrong, I am a good mom. I bake cookies with my kids, make them healthy meals and read them stories. I pray for them and with them. But the wall I put up wasn’t seen or noticed. Oh she felt the wall and I felt hers, but they were hidden deep within our hearts out of fear. What was there to fear? She was only a child and I an upstanding woman in my community and church. There was much to fear. So much,
in fact, that it drove both of us to keep our walls firmly in place lest one of us get hurt. Now as I gazed into her eyes those walls were broken. At least mine were. The eyes are amazing! You can see into a person’s soul if they let you. She would allow me a glimpse every now and then and this was one of those moments. Her eyes told me of deep wounds that were inflicted viciously by her own mother. The things that she had experienced could not even be spoken because they were too traumatic, too unthinkable to imagine. I saw the little girl that I never knew aching for someone to rescue her, to protect her, to love her. I wanted her to see into my soul. I wanted to scream…”I’m here! I’ve come to rescue you! You are not alone! My walls are gone now! You can fire your darts at me; I’m ready to take your pain! I want to take all the suffering, all the abuse, all the evil that was done to you so that you can be free!” But it was too late. The doors in her soul shut. The glimpse was over. My chance was gone. Her defenses went up and the darts came again. With my walls down you would think that her darts would be painful. But the opposite happened. I was able to absorb her darts and the years of pain that came with them. I continued to see the wounded little girl and persevered in my love. This angered her even more. There was no one to hurt. No one to push away. So she did the only thing she knew to do. Run! She ran away from my love. Why, you ask? Why would a child who was loved run away from it? Fear is the answer. If one mother could hurt her so deeply, so deeply it would change the way she acted, felt, and thought, she would never let that happen again. So she left. And all that’s left of this mother’s heart is an empty ache that can only be filled by her. Yes, there are many other children who fill this mother’s heart. But there is a hole that is longing for the day she will return. A hope that never dies, yet a pain so piercing that it’s a reminder every morning when I wake up and every evening when I fall asleep. When a child leaves their mother, whether physically or emotionally, that mother is never the same. She turns the porch light on in her heart, waiting for her beloved child to return. She is always ready, always hoping, always loving. There is nothing that can soothe it and nothing that can extinguish it. That light is always burning. A beacon to show the way back. Back to love, back to healing, back into her arms. My arms are ready….I’m waiting.