At a Loss for Words. . .

What's a writer to do when the words just won't come?

I've been struggling with this for a couple of days now--scenes that don't flow, characters that don't speak, words that won't come. Deep down, I sense it springs from a weariness in my spirit, as though somehow, the frenzy of the season has sapped the well dry. But how can that be? Shouldn't this most holy celebration of my Savior's birth stir a creative well-spring? Shouldn't words flow from my fingers as easily as songs of praise fly from my lips?

Perhaps it is this common misconception that has placed a wall of doubt before me: Christians shouldn't be sad at Christmas. And why not? Distance puts family out of reach. Death creates a longing for seasons past and loved ones who have gone before.

Unless. . .

I remember that though Christ was born a baby, He came to die a Savior.

God did not count it too great a sacrifice to part with His Son for Christmas. In fact, He considered it His greatest gift. So, while the days ahead may be packed with traditions and obligations, I won't forget to pause this holiday season and reflect on the one who made the celebration possible. Perhaps in doing so, I'll once again find the words. . .the ones that mean the most. . .the ones that speak of Jesus.