Their homes and shops were gone, completely destroyed – the village was in ruins.  They paused for a moment in front of what was once their church.  As they stood there, they noticed something – a rose reaching up through the rubble . . . and it was in full bloom!  “Look, Suzanna,” her mother said, “remember that a rose can grow anywhere!”

I’ve long since forgotten the origin of that little story . . . but its truth lingers still.  There are many among us who are dreading the New Year and the prospect of more months of social distancing, mask wearing and self-isolation.  Perhaps you know such a person . . . perhaps you are such a person.  Covid’s dark clouds hover above their fallen countenances; tears threaten to follow the slightest word of disapproval; conversations are limited to single syllable words uttered hesitantly between long pauses.  Fearing further disillusionment and emotional pain, they are a bit like drowning people desperate for life-saving assistance before disappearing for the third time beneath reality’s cold waters.  Left to my own resources, I would have but a story or two about hope, a handkerchief and a hug to offer . . . but, praise God, I’m not left to my own meager resources – none of us are – we have a Savior!  “There is hope for the helpless, rest for the weary, love for the broken heart.  There is grace and forgiveness, mercy and healing . . . He’ll meet you wherever you are.  Cry out to Jesus!”