Harder than carrying a child for 9 months, giving birth in the most intense pain I’ve ever felt, keeping them safe for 18 years by guiding them, holding their hands, and telling them what to avoid–is watching them struggle in their 20s to survive in this world with all its hidden traps. I pray for my sons and daughters as the sunset falls, wondering why no one warned me how my heart would be torn out of my chest by seeing them hurt as time goes by. I remember their perfect skin, their tiny fingers, their dark eyes yet unfilled. Jesus, help them. Help me to stand here for them as long as I can, walking outside my desert home in the light of the moon. Touch them; pull them out of darkness; fill them with your resurrection power, your Light of the World–this Christmas.