when those blue snowflakes start fallin'

The Word for today:

Romans 15:14-33

mark this:

Be happy with those who are happy, and be sad with those who are sad. (Romans 12:15)

You'll forgive me today, won't you?

I am prone, as many are, to troubling thoughts, triggered by God only knows what.  Today it started with, of all things, a secular Christmas song that could barely be heard through a store's scratchy speakers.  When it wouldn't let go, I fought through by typing the thought progression that follows.

The book of Romans tells us to be happy with those who are happy, and be sad with those who are sad,

so I thought we could go through this together...

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"And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That's when those blue memories start calling..." (1)

Sometimes I get so sad I can't carry on. I never know where this comes from. It comes in through the window like a deranged wind. Or a simple song turns against me.

I wish Jesus would hurry up and get here.  My heart's cracked almost all the way across.  I don't mean to be irreverent, but he takes his sweet time.

I don't mind being hurt as much as hurting some one else.  I'd pay it back, I would, if I could. I'd restore the years I stole from you.

I'd take your tears and make them mine. I'd spend the time I never spent. I'd wait for you until dark.

If your heart is on the verge of cracking all the way across like mine, I can't save you, but I'll save you some time.  I searched the whole house, but there's no glue, nothing to hold the pieces together.  So don't bother looking.  There's no thread and there's no forgetting.

When I was younger I identified with Jesus.  I was brave and strong and life lay long before me.  But the other day I came of age.

I saw Jesus through a father's tears.  I saw him smile, despite tomorrow.  Then I watched him walk into the night.

Then I left him to hang there, and to wonder where I'd gone.

That's when I searched the house for glue, and that's when I wrote these words to you.

Hearts seem made to be broken, and just when we think we've got them repaired, they always seem to crack again, and always along the same line.

The sins of my father were visited upon me, and so I say screw theology.  We can make sin so technical, so distantly theoretical--until the day it assumes a shape to haunt us.  What to my wondering eyes did appear but the technicolor consequences of sin.

My sins visited my sons and my daughters, just as we were told. When it all fell apart, even God couldn't find the glue until his eyes fell on his only.   And then, because it was the only thought left to think, he thought the saddest thought ever thought:

"I'll make him the Son of Man.  Then I'll visit their sins upon him."

So unto us a child was born, and unto us a Son was given:  

Son of God, Son of Mary, Son of Man.

***

Thanks for walking through that with me.  I couldn't have made it without you.  A sunnier 'Rain' will greet you tomorrow.  Until then, I just want to say that if you think you're crazy, you're probably right!   But you (obviously)  are not alone…

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(1) from "Blue Christmas," words and music by Billy Hayes & Jay Johnson