First off, let me say, I am not a cryer. I really kind of hate crying and avoid it as much as I can. My dad cried at the movie "Cars". My sister loves sad movies and books, even pursues this sort of thing. This crying thing is definitely not for me. There are only a few things that I cry over. The last verse in "Away in a Manger", I sing it every night to my boys and I sang it to the them the night that a dear friend of mine kissed her little girl for the last time. It made me cry then and can still choke me up. I get teary during prayer and worship sometimes. If I have to cry, I do it in the car with the radio loud where no one notices or, in the summer, if crying is necessary, I will let it go while I mow the grass. No one is any wiser and I have accomplished something in the meantime. These are the exceptions to my no crying rule. With all that being said, as I sat in a crowded auditorium watching my son and his school sing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", tears streamed down my face (and my mom and dad's because they are cryers). Why? Why the tears? They were absolutely tears of joy that Garrett had accomplished something that at one time I never would have dreamed possible but there was more to it than just that. They were tears of surrender, tears of hope. They were tears asking for more.
Let me explain, a couple of years ago when we received the diagnosis of autism for Garrett, we were left walking down a path and we didn't know where it would lead. As love would have us, we blindly took each other's hands and started down that path, but it was scary and hard. I well remember the prayers where I told God that I wanted more-more strength than I could ask or imagine, more faith than I could ask or imagine, more hope than I could ask or imagine. I just wanted more, more of everything that I would need, more than I could ask or imagine. I knew that our future, our plans had changed in that diagnosis. I needed to trust and I knew the only person I could trust in and that somehow He would be enough. I hoped for Christmas programs and friendships and all the things of a typical child but I couldn't ask for anything but more, more than what my fear would let me see.
Recently this prayer for more than I could ask for or imagine has been heavy on my heart but has not been just for Garrett. I have seen several situations in the lives of people around me that are game-changers. They are the diagnosis, the moments, that take lives down paths that they never intended to go. I can only imagine the fear and the uncertainty. God has put these burdens heavy on my heart and I find myself once again pleading for more. I whisper it throughout the day and wake up throughout the night with it fresh on my heart and lips. I can only assume that part of the reason that I feel so called to this prayer in these situations is because I know that God certainly can do more than we can ask or imagine. We really can trust Him to lead us down those roads even when we don't know where they lead. We can have hope in hopeless situations and we can have joy in the hardest of times. That is more. That is what I want for the people on my heart. That is what I was experiencing in that crowded auditorium.
More for me during Garrett's Christmas program was watching him do something that at one time would have seemed impossible. More was that he walked on the stage, sang his songs, did the motions, and even finished with a bow. More is knowing that the journey isn't over but that the trip is safe in the Master's hands. More is hoping and praying for the burdens of those around me that seem too heavy. More was in that tiny baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. He is more. More than we could ask or imagine. More than what we will ever need. More makes tears roll down cheeks and, yet, I will keep on asking and trusting for more.
Ephesians 3:20-21:20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
