I woke up this morning thinking about an annual tradition my family has celebrated for many years. I have loved to go around my neighborhood, to the homeless and shut-ins to sing Christmas Carols every Christmas Eve. We take homemade cookies and cheer and spend an hour or two showing up unannounced at the doorsteps of unsuspecting people.
Church members have gone with us. Both of our parents have gone with us, as well as each of our kids and my sister. I love doing it if for no other reason than to see the reaction of people when they answer their doors and we begin to sing. However, I love to do this as well because I know that people are often lonely and depressed during the holidays. We sing to people who have buried their spouses or gone through great trials the previous year. I search these people out particularly and show up for even 10 or 15 minutes in the dark hours of their lives to attempt to lift their burden. I wrote this poem for these. I wrote it for those who have grief none knows but Jesus.
Church members have gone with us. Both of our parents have gone with us, as well as each of our kids and my sister. I love doing it if for no other reason than to see the reaction of people when they answer their doors and we begin to sing. However, I love to do this as well because I know that people are often lonely and depressed during the holidays. We sing to people who have buried their spouses or gone through great trials the previous year. I search these people out particularly and show up for even 10 or 15 minutes in the dark hours of their lives to attempt to lift their burden. I wrote this poem for these. I wrote it for those who have grief none knows but Jesus.
