The Weary World Rejoices

Life just feels so messy and rough right now.  We’ve got a lot going on in the Kelley house plus the world feels very hard and sad.  We’re working through loss and major tantrums and big decisions and questions and a sweet boy oceans away who needs heart surgeries.  This Christmas season has been speckled with sadness and joy.  I read somewhere years ago…I can’t even remember where now…that joy and grief can co-exist.  I wrote that in a card just this week to friends missing a loved one this season.  And tonight I whispered it to Harper as she cried over Aleppo in her top bunk.  Joy and grief can dance…they can take hold of one another and preform a beautiful, magnificant dance together.

I first talked to our kids about Aleppo a few weeks ago.  I was so overwhelmed by it.  I found myself just reading and sobbing and reading some more.  I felt it necessary to tell them.  Did I show them pictures that might have been too graphic?  Yep.  Did Hudson and I cry together while driving to school?  Yes we did.  Good decision?…Bad decision?…the jury is still out, but I’m starting to think maybe not my worst parenting moment.  I don’t want them to turn their eyes away from the brokenness and sadness of the world.  Instead I want them to turn towards it and then reach out their hands and cry with the world.  We need other people’s pain to become our own.  We need to feel deep compassion and empathy which moves us to action.

With the recent news of Aleppo we dove back into conversations today and more pictures which ended with lots of tears and donations being made to Preemptive Love to help provide food, water and sleeping bags.  We talked about what we could do and they compiled a list.

1.  Give.

2.  Pray.

3.  Go to Aleppo.

4.  Send toys.

5.  Remember.

I want them to take ownership in how we can love those around us.  We talked about how we couldn’t go to Aleppo right now and how toys probably aren’t the best thing to send currently, but how we could do 1, 2 and 5 regularly.  We talked about choosing gratefulness and remembering the people of Aleppo.  We talked about how fighting over pretzels (which had just happened) seemed small and silly when we think about our brothers and sisters in need.  We talked about how we can still celebrate this season, but also remember those in such dire need and how we would do what we could.

If we take the stance “We can’t do anything.  We can’t make a difference.” then we absolutely won’t.  But if we choose to know we can make a difference, then we absolutely will.  When we rally together…when we stand together…we can make a difference.  I want our kids to always know they are world changers.  Jesus calls all of us into it.

A friend was asking me some things about foster care this week.  I told her one of the reasons we are a foster family is because my mind can’t even go to the place of thinking about having my children removed from our home because of a mistake I made…no matter how big or small…or how bad or not so bad…and then placed in a stranger’s home.  I cannot fathom how I would even begin to feel because just starting to think about it makes me want to throw up.  We are foster parents because if the roles were reversed we would want someone fighting for us and loving our children madly.  We would want someone in our corner saying “You can do this.  And we’re here to help you.”  We are foster parents because we want to treat people how we would want to be treated.  This goes for Aleppo too.  And every other situation for that matter.  We are called to treat people as we want to be treated.  To love others how we want to be loved.

When we read about Aleppo in history books years from now, I don’t want to think about how our family did nothing.  I don’t want to think about how our family turned our heads the other way.  I want to know we treated the people of Aleppo how we would want to be treated if we we’re the family running for our lives and trying to protect & feed our babies.

Harper was still pretty upset about it all tonight after she went to bed.  I ended up snuggled in her top bunk under her covers next to her.  We cried together and hashed things out.  I told her how one of the main reasons I love our kindness advent is because God planted it on my heart in such a desolate moment of my life.  I was so sad…so grieved…so hopeless feeling after losing Mom and there in the grief and sadness God planted this piece of joy.  I still remember reading a photo copied devotion my friend Sandra gave me about how even when we don’t know what to do for ourselves, we can always do for others.  I told Harper how even in our most hopeless of moments God can do wondrous things.  He can bring joy in the midst of sadness. He can bring hope and peace in the midst of war and heartache.  He can make things new and beautiful even when they seem far too broken.  That’s what He does.  That’s the jaw dropping, redemptive beauty of our God.  Beauty from ashes.

We ended our bed chat/cryfest talking about how O Holy Night is one of our favorite Christmas songs because of one line “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.”  God never told us not to be sad.  God never said to not take on our neighbor’s pain.  We can still be weary and downtrodden and rejoice.  We can be sad and have our breath taken away by the thrill of hope we find in Him alone.  Joy and grief can dance.  So that’s our plan for the rest of the Christmas season.  We’re remembering Aleppo…and other’s in our lives and around us who are facing hard things…we’re choosing kindness and generosity…we’re looking towards the pain…we’re feeling it…and we’re rejoicing in the hope of Jesus.

 *If you would like to donate directly to aid on the ground in Aleppo GO HERE.

*Great read about Aleppo HERE.

*Shannan always says it 10x better than I every could.

*See Beyond Despair in Aleppo is a must read.

*7 real things you can do right now about the catastrophe in Aleppo