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In his perhaps most Ron Weasley-ish moment, Ron responds to Hermione’s description of the many emotions Cho Chang is experiencing as she grieves Cedric and then starts to fall for Harry with this exclamation: “A person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode!”

If 2020 has proven anything, it’s that a person can, in fact, feel all that at once.

Today is a prime example.

On a usual Christmas Eve, my family gathers for Chinese food at my parent’s table, then cleans up (never presents before dishes!), before opening gifts in the living room. Tonight, like so many of you, we’ll gather via Zoom, our three households making their own meals, our gifts shipped and wrapped ourselves. Of course, I feel sad about this. This isn’t Christmas as I had hoped. I miss my family tremendously.

And then I feel guilty. At least I have a family to call! What of my childhood friend whose dad died of a heart attack a couple weeks ago? Or the hundreds of thousands who have lost loved ones to Covid? Or to the slow creep of cancer, or dementia? I should be grateful, not sad. And I am. Along with the sadness, and the guilt, is gratitude.

I’m also excited about today, mostly because of a jar of homemade tomato confit that I’ll use in tonight’s dinner. Tomato confit itself isn’t all that exciting. It’s just tomatoes roasted in oil and basil. But to me, it symbolizes a change, a newfound delight in cooking and preparing my own food. Which happened, I’m quite confident, as a result of Covid and those endless hours spent at home with nothing better to do than…cook. And eat. So now I’m sad, guilty, grateful, excited, and confused (because I think I’m grateful for the new rhythms Covid has introduced…but not grateful for Covid).

It’s a lot for one person to hold. And I’d wager I’m not alone. We’re all holding a lot right now.

Which makes me think about Mary. Very few Biblical characters have uninteresting lives, but the year of Mary’s life up to and including the birth of Jesus was a real rollercoaster. The shock of an angel appearing. The fear of telling people. The on again, off again, on again relationship with Joseph. The jubilation of Elizabeth. A major journey to an unknown place with a relatively unknown husband. A first pregnancy and birth – in a stable, no less. And, of course, the knowledge that her son would also be the Son of God.

When Mary treasured the words of the shepherds in her heart, and pondered what they had said, I imagine she was pondering a whole heap of other things too. Was she terrified of the task that lay before her? Thrilled with the tiny child whose eyes looked like hers? Utterly exhausted from the journey and birth? Awed and inspired by the goodness of God? Unsure what her future looked like?

Could Mary even make sense of everything she was feeling? Or was she just a muddle of emotions – weary, and yet rejoicing?

Weary and yet rejoicing. I’m not the world’s greatest fan of “O Holy Night” but I love that line – “The weary world rejoices.” I love it for all the tension those four words hold. Josh Groban doesn’t croon, “The perfect world rejoices” or “The cheery world rejoices.” No – that would be too simple. And inaccurate. The world – even as the angels sang – lay in darkness and sorrow. The incarnation of the Christ did not, and does not, negate the weariness of a world waiting for full and total redemption.

But it does change that weariness. Declares that weariness will not have the final say, but even as we hold our weariness, there is yet room for rejoicing.

It is one of the great truths of life lived in this beautiful, complicated, and waiting world, that all of the things can be true at once. I can be sad about being distant from family, grateful (so grateful!) that I have family yet to call, and delighted in the meal I have made. We can celebrate the surprising gifts we have received or things we have learned this last year, even as we long for things to change. We can feel the first glimmers of hope as vaccines are distributed even as we grieve for those we lost. We can cry and laugh at the same time as we think of those we love.

We can celebrate the birth of a Savior, even as we long for his coming.

We can be weary and rejoicing.

The Christ child will bear it all.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.

Laura de Jong

Laura de Jong is the Pastor of Preaching and Worship at Community Christian Reformed Church in Kitchener, Ontario


  • Keith Mannes says:

    What a beautiful thing this is. Thank you.

  • Dana VanderLugt says:

    I needed this today. Thank you.

  • Daniel Meeter says:

    Thank you once again.

  • Jim Schaap says:

    Yup. Sounds right, just right. Thank you.

  • Elly says:

    THIS!! ALL of this! It touched my heart deeply. 😊

  • Lynn Setsma says:

    Thank you! So describes my feelings and cooking has been my Covid therapy. My weary heart rejoices.

  • RLG says:

    Thanks, Laura, for your take on the multitude of sentiments we can feel at one time. We are indeed wonderful creatures and this variety makes life so very interesting. But sentiments, emotions, feelings can be so deceiving. Christians (of course, not all) think Jesus could return to earth at any moment, his return is imminent. In fact, the apostles Paul and Peter didn’t just think Jesus “could” return at any moment but that he “would”. In fact, Jesus himself gave the same impression. Paul counted himself as one who would be present at Jesus’ imminent return. But 2,000 years later many Christians are still speaking of such return. Of course, among Reformed Christians, the soon return of Jesus is a matter of “could” and not “will” return soon. As 2,000 years have passed by, so could another 2,000 before the return of Christ. I think if Paul were with us today he would have long ago abandoned his theory of a soon or any return of Jesus. I suppose his present reign from heaven, at God’s right hand also gives comfort to many. It is indeed interesting the many different things that informs our sentiments. But our God given common sense should rule out some of our wishful thinking. May this be a happy and merry season for you regardless of the varied lives we live. Thanks again, Laura, for a thought provoking article.

  • Susan says:

    Thank you for helping us pay attention to the words we are singing in the hymns we know so well. I too have found silver linings in COVID and I hope some of what we now do becomes a new way to celebrate.

  • Tom Van Tassell says:

    Thank you, Laura. I have been a reader of the Twelve and Reformed Journal for some time, and am now retired from pastoral ministry. I have enjoyed and been fed by your posts, and this one hits the mark!

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