On Christmas Eve 2025, as I closed my eyes to sleep, a kaleidoscope of memories began to whirl through my mind—uninvited but welcome. I saw myself as a little girl in a white dress, ruined by the drip of an orange popsicle to my mother’s chagrin. I remembered hours spent with my best friend, Joan, enduring the relentless antics and teasing of my Uncle Don. Then, Christmas Day 2014 loomed large: the moment my mother closed her blue eyes for the final time on earth and opened them in heaven.
One memory of my father stands out above the rest: the sound of his voice crying out to God in English, Armenian, and the language of the Holy Spirit. Whenever I heard him pray, I knew everything would be alright. I remember walking into his room shortly before his death, my jaw swollen and throbbing from a dental procedure. I joked that I looked like Marlon Brando in The Godfather, but the pain was no laughing matter. As I knelt before him, Daddy took my face in his large, tender hands. He prayed for the pain to drain out of my jaw and through his fingers. In that moment, I felt the agony vanish. Though the mirror still showed “Marlon” looking back at me, the pain was gone.
With New Year’s Day approaching, I thought of my parents’ wedding anniversary. They married at midnight on New Year’s Eve, exchanging vows as bells rang and fireworks filled the sky. They celebrated 73 years together before Daddy’s passing in 2013. I remembered secretively adding gussets to my mother’s original wedding dress so she could wear it for their 50th anniversary; she was so happy it “still fit” after all those years.
This New Year’s Day, 2026, my Uncle Don passed away. The Don I remember was the aggravating tease of our childhood, the “big brother” of our youth, and a man full of life who would perform grand, impromptu ballet dances across the room. He had a beautiful voice; I cherish the time I spent singing alto with him and Norma in the Harvester Trio before his wife, Clariece, took my place with her lovely soprano.
We do not know what the rest of 2026 will bring, but I can truly say: It is well with my soul. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow, whatever it may hold. God bless your 2026—Jesus is coming.
Harolene.com 