Let earth receive her king . . . Let every heart prepare him room . . .
The words echoed over and over in Mackenzie’s mind, accompanied by a multitude of burning questions.
How do I do that, God, when I’m so full of anger, so full of fear? How do I receive you? How do I prepare my heart? What if I don’t want to do either one?
The last question struck him hard, like a sledgehammer pounding the middle of his chest. He believed in God, didn’t he?
“Yes,” he whispered, knowing it was true.
He trusted God, didn’t he?
He opened his mouth, but no response came. And as he considered the question, he saw a huge, gaping darkness within himself. Fear, sharp and piercing, sliced through him. How can I trust you—desperation flooded him—if you take Lindsay away from me, how can I ever trust you?
He waited, hoping, praying for a response. But there was only silence. And the fear grew.
The streets were dark and silent when he pulled up his driveway and into his garage. He stepped from his car feeling more weary, more bruised and abandoned than he’d ever felt in his life.
Are you there, God?
He moved inside, slipping out of his coat and letting it fall to the floor. He started down the hallway to his room . . . then stopped, startled by something drifting in the air. What? He turned toward the kitchen and saw a strange light in the living room, a glow of some kind. Moving as though in a dream, he forced himself forward, and what he saw took his breath away.
The tree, Lindsay’s tree, stood there, resplendent in ornaments, tinsel, and delicate white lights. Gifts of all shapes and sizes were wrapped in colorful Christmas paper and piled beneath the full branches. The soft strains of Christmas carols floated around him as he moved toward the tree.
A cool nose nudged his hand, and he looked down. Ivan stood there beside him, as though he’d been waiting for Mackenzie to come home. The dog licked his hand, then fell into step beside Mackenzie as he walked to the tree. He fingered the needles, inhaled the scent of evergreen, drank in the delicate beauty of the ornaments.
It was real. He wasn’t going crazy. Somehow, suddenly he was a teenager again, standing in his aunts’ living room, surrounded by Lindsay’s magical Christmas.
His knees went weak, and he went to sit on the couch. Ivan followed, settling at his feet. Mackenzie leaned back against the couch cushion, intensely aware of . . . something. A presence.
“Jesus . . . Jesus, please be here.”
His gaze fell on the Bible Lindsay had placed on the coffee table. He reached out and lifted it, opening to one of the sections Kylie had marked. He reached up to turn on a lamp, then began to read.
I will strengthen you and help you. . . . My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you. . . . the Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forever more. . . . God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. . . . If you make the Most High your dwelling—even the Lord, who is my refuge—then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. . . .
Understanding swept through Mackenzie, wonder washed over his heart, filling him with the sense that he was not alone, that God was, indeed, in that very room, touching him, loving him.
Let every heart prepare him room . . .
The carol rang through him again, and this time Mackenzie understood.
God was present.
He always had been. Day in and day out, the Almighty was there, watching over his children, involved in their lives. In his life. Scenes from Mackenzie’s life played over in his mind—his aunts and their solid, everyday faith, Lindsay and her unflagging determination to draw him back to real faith, Kylie and all she had shared with him in the past weeks.
Even Ivan and the laughter he’d brought into Mackenzie’s life.
It was all from God. For him. He just hadn’t been willing to see it.
Tears coursed down his cheeks as he faced the truth: After his parents died, he convinced himself that it was better, safer, to not care. To keep his heart shielded, protected. Against anything that could hurt him.
And so he’d pulled away. Convinced himself that order and control were his protection. But they hadn’t protected him.
They’d become a prison.
They’d formed a wall between him and the people he cared about. Lindsay. The aunts.
God.
It was so much easier to believe God was distant, unconcerned about the details of his life. But what was easy wasn’t what was true. He saw that now. These last weeks with Kylie and Ivan . . . seeing Lindsay in that hospital bed . . .
He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. God did care, intimately, about the details of his life. About the big things and the small.
Mackenzie bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t make room for you because I was so sure I was right. So sure I knew the truth. Forgive me. Father, please, forgive me.”
Do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
The assurance resonated within him. Slow but certain, peace spread through him. He was not alone. Nor was Lindsay. They were both being held in loving, all-powerful hands.
He jumped up from the couch, startling Ivan who had been dozing beside him. He knelt and hugged the Siberian. “Did you know you’re an angel sent to guide me?”
Ivan tilted his head as though considering the question, then delivered a lick to Mackenzie’s face. He laughed, rubbing the dog’s head. Ivan, Lindsay, even the old man whose words had so haunted him. All angels in God’s hands. “And so was someone else. Someone I need to talk with.”
A small knock sounded on the sliding doors, and Mackenzie turned to them. A quick glance at the clock on the mantel told him it was close to two in the morning. He moved to pull the blinds back—and his joy multiplied. He unlocked the doors, slid them open, and reached out a hand.
Kylie laid her hand in his and stepped inside. Her glorious hair was pulled back with a Christmas ribbon, her eyes were shining with tears. And love. He felt it almost like a physical blow. It washed over him, warming him inside and out, leaving his head spinning with the intensity of the experience.
“I’m sorry to come by so late. But I saw the light and wanted to see if there was any news on Lindsay.”
“You did all this, didn’t you?” He indicated the decorated room, and a slight flush filled her cheeks. She nodded.
His gaze held hers. “Why?”
“I wanted you to come home to Christmas.”
He lifted a hand to touch her cheek. She placed her hand over his, her gaze never leaving his. For a moment he couldn’t speak.
“You’re in love with her!” The accusation rang in his head, and he said it again, this time as the truth. He was completely, totally, irrevocably in love with Kylie Hawk. With her glowing eyes, her laughter, her flowing hair, her sweet spirit . . . every crazy, illogical, absurd thing about her called to him.
All he had to do was answer.
“It worked.” He cupped her face. “I came home. To Christmas, and to God.”
Joy lit her face. “Oh, Mackenzie, I’m so glad!”
“Mac.” His lips twitched at the surprise on her face. “I much prefer Mac. But now I need to know something. I need to know if I can come home . . . to you.”
Her lips parted in a silent O, and it took all his will to not kiss her. But he needed to finish this. To tell her what was in his heart. “My life has been crazy over the past few weeks, but one thing remained constant. Seeing you, talking with you, spending time with you . . . that brought me joy.”
He took in every detail of her face. “You brought me joy. And a sense of peace. Tonight, God brought my faith and my heart back to life. He showed me that my faith belongs to him. And my heart”—he placed his hand over her heart—“belongs to you. I love you, Kylie. I don’t want another moment to pass by without you knowing how I feel.”
He saw her answer in her eyes, read it in her face, but he still wanted to hear it. She didn’t disappoint. “And I love you. When God put you in my heart, I thought it was for you. To help you see him. But now I know it was for both of us.”
He nodded. “Immanuel.”
She smiled, understanding. “God with us. Now and forever.”
He drew her close, cradled her in his arms, and rested his chin on her head. “I don’t know what will happen with Lindsay. But I do know God is here, with us. With me. And I’ll be all right because I have him. And I have you.” Glancing up, his eyes came to rest on a small sprig suspended from a string. He looked down at her with a grin. “I see you didn’t forget the most important decoration of all.”
She colored. “It isn’t really Christmas without mistletoe.”
He lowered his head until his lips met hers—and as her arms slid around his neck, he could almost swear he heard angels singing.
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will to men!”