I love Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday, taking place in one
of my favorite seasons and a celebration of my Savior I love – Jesus! Boxes of decorations
can make even the homeliest of Charlie Brown Christmas trees look like beautiful
creations. Glittered gluey papers made with earnest determination of little
hands are placed in special spots, to be admired in those initial instances and
to be enjoyed for years of memories. Picking out presents for those we love and
taking great joy in the giving is, for me, right up there with seeing the
wonder of any child-hearted person as they glimpse something in a triangular dark
green evergreen, white twinkle lights and spun glass bulbs. As a lover of
Christmas trees, and a collector of them in all shapes and sizes, I sit here
tonight in the light of white twinkly lights wrapped around the alpine trees
and think about Christmas.
The beauty of the decorations, the fun of the giving, the
family gatherings and plans they are all good and worthwhile to have. But this
week, as I looked at all there is to be done and needs to be done and what is
left that will probably not get done, I felt the stress mount quickly. It’s all
good things, things I want to do. But how do I do it all? Where do I find the
time? Can I have an elf of my own for the holidays? I would gladly pay in
cookies and milk! As I was looking at my to-do-list, these were the thoughts
that whirled in my mind as I was looking at my to-do list and the calendar and
feeling the stress rising. And then, a thought struck me – kind of like the bracing
taste of water after a candy cane - Don’t Miss Christmas!
Christmas, with beautiful decorations, gatherings and season
plans that hang like ornamental accoutrements of festivity, is really not about
those trimmings and is definitely not to be missed in its purest form. It is the
cry of a new parent’s heart who looks at this much loved baby with great hope,
wonder and the weight of a new kind of responsibility. It is the quiet joy of arms
carefully embracing a little swaddled figure, just pausing to watch him breathe.
It is the excitement of shepherds receiving the announcement of angels, the
fear and wondering at beholding the heavenly host as they proclaim great joy. Christmas
is the largeness of history and the smallness of the family home. Christmas is
that kind of joy, even in the midst of wrapping paper, memories that make me
teary, and being ready to post a help wanted sign for an elf helper. Tomorrow will be a new day and I’m looking
forward to making cookies, running errands and writing a few more cards. But I
will be taking a moment then and more afterwards to remember Christmas, the
wonder and the majesty, the mystery and the hope, the loudness and the
quietness. More than anything I will seek Christmas and not lose it in the
wrapping paper.
The thing about Christmas is that it is just the beginning
of the story. It is a story of truth
that speaks of love. Real love – love that is perfect and whole, a love we
cannot quantify or qualify. Yes, I will get teary at seeing my great
grandmother’s nativity, I will still add the toppers to the Christmas trees,
and address more Christmas cards. But, more than anything I will seek Christmas
and not lose it in the wrapping paper.
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