Silent Night

I can never, ever get through Silent Night without crying. 

Never.

Not since the Lonliest Christmas Ever - my boyfriend and I had broken up finally, my dad and I weren't speaking, and my mom and I were alone at a candlelight Christmas service in San Antonio. Actually, we were at Max Lucado's church, and wow can that man tell a story (but you already knew that). I have always loved candlelight services for a couple different reasons. Mostly, I love candles. I have a swirly candle holder thing that K and I got for our wedding that is tedious as crap to light but when people are coming over in the evening I light 'em up (and every other candle in the house) because I love candles.  In the church services, I love the way that the light spreads through the congregation as people light each other's candles, how it reminds me of the need for community in faith because my little light is okay by itself but check out what it can do when all these other people also have light.

Anyway, I don't remember how we ended up at Oak Hills Church, but when it came to the part where we sing Silent Night and everyone holds up there candles, I remember thinking, "God, I'm trying really hard to be grateful but how can I when this is all that is left of my family?" And I heard Him very quietly say, "Look around.  This is your family," and instead of staring sorrowfully at my solo candle, I looked around at the multitude of lights, the illuminated faces of the Church and was immediately overwhelmed by love, which of course brought the Ugly Cry on full force.

So, whenever we sing that song, tears come to my eyes because it reminds me of how far my family HAS come, and quite literally puts me on my knees in gratitude for Kyle, for my crazy family, for my friends who have always been like family.