An email from World Vision: 1 million homeless.

A letter from St. Jude Children’s Hospital: more than 10,000 children will learn they have cancer this year.

Another email from Not For Sale: 27 million slaves in the world today.

And, as I type this, a tweet: corruption and violence in Sudan continue unchecked.

I am overwhelmed. I read Madeleine L’Engle’s January 28 entry from Glimpses of Grace (yes, accidentally a day early).

You are never more like Christ than when you are choked with compassion over the brokenness of others.
- Brennan Manning

“…the magnitude of this catastrophe is enormous.”

I felt small as I read the email from World Vision. Like most everyone, I’ve been catching snippets of information and news feeds of images from Haiti’s devastating earthquake. And, with reality setting in, I am at a loss as to how to respond.

Only love, only love can leave such a mark…
Magnificent, U2

“Yeah, I’m going back to work next month. And I’m also going back to school to get my degree. I’m starting a business, too. Making kids’ toys.”

I sat across from the bright-eyed mom rocking her three-month-old baby in his car seat. I nodded and smiled as Jude wiggled (all 21 pounds of him) in my arms. As I listened to the young mom go on, something fractured a little inside. She went on about all her plans (“Oh, and we’re thinking about getting pregnant again. I’d have another one tomorrow if I could…”), and I began thinking back on my plans. I began thinking back on our six months with Jude, too.

Relax, everything’s going to be all right; rest, everything’s coming together; open your hearts, love is on the way!
- Jude 2

On this eve of 2010, as I sit with Jason and tend to Jude (who happens to be aching with new teeth and a scratchy throat), I can’t help thinking about the gifts given to me in 2009.

…the Sunrise from on high will visit us, to shine on those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death…
Gospel of Luke 1:78-79

Blood and water covered a crying baby boy and smeared his momma’s chest as she held him close to her heart in a moment of pure exhilaration. Joseph helped her wrap him in the tunic he wasn’t wearing. The young girl said, “Yeshua, Yeshua,” again and again, her cry of joy echoing in the air as angels tended and sang with her.

Mary held the Messiah tightly as she pushed once more, delivering the placenta that had fed Jesus while he lived inside her as a fetus. She rejoiced in the relief of having brought forth her son, God’s son, in wholeness and health. Then she leaned back in the hay with Jesus, who searched her face. She stared into Jesus’ bright eyes and whispered, “Bless you, Yeshua. Bless you.” He breathed quickly, the way infants do, and moved his head toward her breast to feed, content at hearing the voice he’d learned in the darkness.

Yes, it was a holy night. No doubt about it. Angels. Stars. God with us. The miraculous, glorious scene. But there was also something quite human about the whole thing. About Jesus. About this teenage girl and her betrothed.

Deeply human. Infinitely divine. The mystery and glory of the Christ.