A Visit in the Season of Light...

Dear Readers,

I sat quietly with my laptop in my modest living room, my thoughts swirling like the winter wind outside. The season of joy and light had arrived, yet my heart felt heavy, weighed down by a cocktail of physical pain and emotional exhaustion. The modest decorations I once cherished sat untouched in a box by the corner. This Christmas, it seemed, had lost its sparkle.

The sound of a knock on the door broke through my thoughts. I struggled to my feet, the ache in my joints a constant reminder of my suffering. When I opened the door, there stood Father Malcolm, my old friend, and a priest, holding a small bag and wearing a warm smile that reached my eyes.

“Jacob,” Father Malcolm greeted, his voice gentle yet firm, “I’ve come to see you.”

My lips twitched into a faint smile. “Come in, Father. It’s good to see you.”

Father Malcolm stepped inside, setting his bag down carefully by the small table. He glanced around the room, his eyes scanning the sparse setting. The walls were bare, the room dimly lit by a single lamp. The usual festive cheer, the garlands, and the nativity scene I loved so much were absent. A pang of sadness crossed Father Malcolm’s face.

“Jacob,” he began gently, “it doesn’t feel like Christmas here. It feels…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It feels more like Lent.”

I sighed and sank back into my chair. “I know, Father. I’ve been so caught up in everything the pain, the loneliness that I’ve lost sight of the season.”

Father Malcolm nodded thoughtfully and pulled a chair close to Jacob. “Let me offer you something to lighten your soul. I’ve brought the sacraments of reconciliation and anointing of the sick. They’re gifts of grace and hope, Jacob. Would you like to receive them?”

My eyes welled up with tears. “Yes, Father. I would like that very much.”

Father Malcolm began with the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I poured out my heart, confessing my struggles, my doubts, and my moments of despair. Father Malcolm listened intently, his gaze steady and filled with compassion. When he pronounced the absolution, I felt a weight lift, as if an invisible burden had been taken from my shoulders.

Then came the Anointing of the Sick. Father Malcolm took out the small vial of holy oil, its contents shimmering in the light of the lamp. He anointed my forehead and hands, praying fervently for healing, strength, and peace. As the prayers filled the room, I felt an inexplicable warmth wash over me, a gentle reminder of God’s unyielding presence even in my darkest moments.

When the sacraments were completed, Father Malcolm reached for my hand. “You’re not alone, Jacob. Christ is with you, especially in your suffering. But let’s bring a little Christmas light back into this home, shall we?”

Father Malcolm stood and began rummaging through the box of decorations. He found a string of lights and a small nativity scene. I watched as the priest, usually so composed, became animated, stringing lights around the room and carefully setting up the nativity scene on the table.

“There,” Father Malcolm said, stepping back to admire his work. The soft glow of the lights filled the room, and the simple yet profound nativity scene became the focal point. “Now it feels like Christmas.”

I couldn’t help but smile. The room, though still humble, radiated a warmth and cheer that had been absent for so long. “Thank you, Father. This means more than you know.”

Father Malcolm placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Christmas isn’t about grand displays or expensive gifts. It’s about the light that Christ brings into our lives. Even in your suffering, Jacob, His light shines through.”

Before leaving, Father Malcolm handed Jacob a small wrapped package. “A little something for you. Open it on Christmas Day,” he said with a wink.

After the priest departed, I sat in the softly lit room, the glow of the lights reflecting in my eyes. The pain in my body hadn’t disappeared, but my heart felt lighter. I gazed at the nativity scene, the tiny figures of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus reminding me of the humble yet profound joy of Christmas.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of hope. The room may have looked like Lent earlier, but now, it felt like Christmas a Christmas rooted in faith, love, and the unshakeable promise of God’s presence.

Thank You, Father Malcolm.

God Bless You Always.

Merry Christmas,

Jacob M