Sitting behind my desk listening soft Christmas music playing on my MacBook, and with the anticipation of Christmas Eve in my mind, I wonder how do we move the needle from 'hopeless' to 'hopeful?'
Now I know what you might be thinking. Like me, you might confess that this is God's task and God's purpose. . . I mean seriously, how are we going to completely move the needle from one extreme to another by ourselves for all of creation?!?
Leaving behind cliches and platitudes this task can seem far too difficult for us to even attempt to address.
But I wonder if the solution is more accessible then we first imagined. . .
Emma is still very sad from losing Bella, our cherished Maltese. Bella was her companion and her support during some hard, dark, times. Years ago before we came to Bethesda, Jennifer took Bella in her arms, kissed her head, and handed her to Emma for the night. As the exchange occurred, and to Emma's utter surprise, Jennifer said, 'Now take care of Emma, Bella.' Emma smiled and sauntered down the hall. She was still quite young and needed someone to help her through the dark night that was to come.
From that point on the two were inseparable. Bella would hear Emma cough at night and come to investigate. Never mind that she was standing on Emma's face, Bella did her job well. She would ride on Emma's lap in the car and curl herself up like a baby in Emma's arms. But now she is with Jesus in heaven.
So I ask my question again: how do I move the needle for Emma from 'hopeless' to 'hopeful' without turning it into a cliche-ridden conversation? How do I, or how would you, begin to address that need? For this is not only something that Emma is dealing with right now, but I suspect that you know individuals personally who are in their own hopeless-Christmas moment.
In her book, Always a Guest: Speaking of Faith Far From Home, Barbara Brown Taylor tells her own story of moving the needle from hopeless to hopeful. The story is about a local country sheriff who was shot trying to talk one of his deputies down from their dark place. But he was too late. The officer killed his wife and shot the sheriff in the back.
Yet this sheriff would not be deterred. Shortly after the incident, which rocked the community to its core, much as Emma is rocked to her core today, the wounded sheriff showed up for a local version of Dancing with the Stars. They raised nearly $65,000 for a rescue shelter for those suffering from domestic abuse. She concludes his story this way:
"Will it [the evening] stop domestic violence? No it won't--but it kept people from feeling paralyzed, if just for a little while. It moved the needle from 'hopeless' to 'hopeful,' for just one night. That's the good news."
A small, personal, deliberate choice to be present mattered for that community, and it would matter for Emma as she grieves, and I believe it will matter for that one person who you know right now whose Christmas is not the most joy-filled.
I walked another glass of green tea back to Emma in her room. Lowered my booming, always happy, voice a notch, I tipped my head forward so she could see my eyes over my glasses and said, 'need anything...hug?'
"No," she replied.
"A cookies?" I pressed.
"I'm good," she said through tear-filled eyes.
"Well actually, honey, I'm good. 'Cause you know, I'm a doctor. . . You're just cute." I replied trying to smile through my own tears at seeing her heart broken.
She rolled her eyes and a little tear came out. But for that moment as she laughed and in that moment hopelessness became hopefulness. Presence matters when we are in those places. I wonder what choices you might make to move the needle of a friend just that little bit?
Blessings
Rev. Derek
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