I read this thread last year on Twitter, bawling my way through the month of December. Entries like the end of the 3rd - "His sheep hear His voice. He still remembers where each one is buried." - left me sobbing intermittently for the rest of the day.
This thread was raw. It was broken and choppy and so achingly painful to read. Evan let us into the deep recesses of losing his beloved wife. You almost felt like a trespasser to his grief, but at the same time he gave you words for the screams you couldn't force past your own throat.
At the same time, you saw Jesus. "Immanuel" has always been my favorite name for Christ, and I meditate upon it often. "God with us", God incarnate, God in mortal flesh, our God who was "pleased with man with men to dwell, Jesus our Immanuel."
Evan takes the meaning of why Christ came, lets us feel all the weight of our grief, and then shines upon it the Light of the World. Christmas cannot be felt apart from death; we are not human if we try to pretend that there is only the excitement of the Birth, and none of the knowledge of suffering. We can't celebrate the Cross only at Easter, because death is always a constant as long as we are mortal. But Hope is something we can always know; Hope is something that will never betray us.
Hope is Immanuel; Hope is the birth of a baby. Hope is the defeat of death. Hope is knowing that we meet Him immediately after death, and then that our resurrected bodies will be restored at the end of all things.
Hope is what this the thread will imprint upon your soul. Weep. Grieve. Rejoice. Believe.
Read through it again and again and again through the very darkest parts of the night - for morning, Hope, Immanuel, has come, and will come again.