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It was the week before Christmas 2022. On a whim, I decided to visit a nearby city for some last minute shopping. For years, this mall has struggled, as highly visible national chains arrived, bringing their own retail footprints. In the structure that once defined this city, only one anchor store and a few locally owned shops remained.

At the foot of the curving staircase that joined two floors, a large fenced area held their Christmas display. It was just as I remembered: large and colorful with happy elves, winter snow scenes and an oversized chair for Santa.

Now, five days before Christmas, the chairs were empty. The lights were visible but not turned on. There were no long, eager lines. Santa was a no-show.

As I made my way around the display there was a lone boy at the fence. He was five, his grandmother said. She stood patiently waiting as he knelt on the floor, hands on the fence, staring through the rails at the colors, the toys. He only barely moved, so focused was he on the details of the display.

It was heartbreaking to see. I wondered what was going through his mind. Did he imagine that the lights were shining and the music blaring, or was he simply reconciling the fact that what he hoped for would not happen today?

It would have been understandable to express your disappointment and move on. I admired him for staying, waiting, wondering, hoping.

This year was my 66^th Christmas. As a child, I heard my grandfather preach about Jesus’ birth and His imminent return. Archaeologists have made supporting discoveries about Jesus’ birth in the last 66 years. These amazing facts reinforce what we believe. They do not make us believe; they simply add layers to the story.

All through childhood we heard our grandfather speak of Jesus’ return to earth. Often I would stare at the sky, expecting to see Him appear at any moment.

Like the five-year-old in the mall, you and I are waiting. We are eager. We anticipate joy that is unmatched, unspeakable.

We are not able to enter just yet. The time is not now, perhaps not today. But we stop and we stare. We watch and we study. We kneel and we listen, knowing that, one day, we will realize what our hearts could not even imagine.

One day. Maybe today.

In anticipation,

Janet