The Promise and Christmas Wishes

I cried myself to sleep Tuesday night the 26th.

Some moments, I feel as though I’m going to be okay. Then, just five minutes later, I’m overwhelmed and ready to weep again. Last night was one of those nights. As I lay there, the verse about God being close to the brokenhearted echoed in my mind. I even wondered if He was sitting in my living room, right there with me, because I still haven’t found all the pieces of my broken heart.

But then, the sun came up. Life carried on, and I had things to attend to, like my vintage booth, which I’d been neglecting while trying to pull myself together. So, I went up there to restock, fluff, and see what needed doing. That’s when I experienced a profound God moment, one so big and heart-stirring that there was no other explanation except His love and goodness.

Let me rewind for a moment to give you the context.

Jimmy Ray and I rarely bought each other Christmas gifts. Instead, we chose special activities to enjoy together during the holidays, like events or shows. Sometimes, we’d exchange small things—like his beloved fruitcake. Jim adored fruitcake. He insisted it wasn’t officially Christmas season until our local grocer stocked Clancy’s fruitcakes.

This past season, however, was a little different. His recliner had started to wear out, and with his arthritis acting up, I decided to surprise him with a new one that had heat and massage. It arrived early, and I’d planned to hide it until Christmas. But when we got home one day, there it was, sitting in the box on our sidewalk with a picture of it right on the front. No hiding it.

I laughed and told him, “Merry Christmas!” He enjoyed the recliner but teased me, saying, “Now I have to buy you a Christmas present. You went big!”

A few days later, we were out shopping and stumbled upon a set of wind chimes. Their sound was beautiful—enchanting, melodious, and peaceful. They had the rich tones of Corinthian bells, perfectly hand-tuned. I checked the price tag and saw they were over $100. I told Jim, “No way, that’s too much for wind chimes.” It wasn’t that they weren’t worth it; I just couldn’t justify spending that much.

Jim looked at me and said, “I’m getting those for you for Christmas.” I argued back, as wives do, but he just laughed and said, “You’ll see.”

Jimmy passed on November 10th, and I didn’t think about those wind chimes again, until Tuesday night and I literally played the conversation over in my head. Maybe I should go back and get them? After that emotional night, I headed to my booth at the Mercantile. When I was about to leave, the owner pulled me aside and handed me a box. She said, “We all got together and wanted to get you something in remembrance.”

You’ve probably guessed what was in the box.

It was the very wind chimes Jim had promised me for Christmas. Not only that, but they had added a plaque with his name and the dates of his birth and passing engraved on the sail of the chimes.

In that moment, I knew with all my heart that God is indeed close to the brokenhearted. He had used this loving group of people to fulfill Jim’s Christmas wish for me. Even in the midst of my grief, God showed me His love in such a tangible way.

Now, every time I hear those wind chimes, I’m reminded not just of my sweet Jimmy Ray, but also of how much God cares for us, even in the smallest details. He sees our pain, and He’s always working to bring comfort and hope to our hearts.

These chimes are more than just a gift—they’re a testament to Jim’s love, God’s faithfulness, and the ways He brings beauty and light into our darkest moments. Truly, I am reaping the harvest of God’s goodness, Jim’s generosity, and a group of friends who are so full of kindness and love.

God is my strong tower, and He is close—so close—to the brokenhearted. And for that, and my beautiful friends at Sweet Beau Mercantile I am deeply grateful.