It’s the season of Advent and winter lingers at our front door. We light lights and apple cinnamon candles that kindle the fire of home. How mysterious the things of tradition and history, wrapping their threads together to form in us the holiday spirit. Ornaments hung to a needled pine tree, picked and selected for this very purpose. Placed in the center, where all eyes can see in wonder.
Buttery crisped cookies and fruit filled cakes linger in windows of bakeries and cafes. The thought of a hot piping mug filled with steamed milk and sweet chocolate treasures entice us to move indoors, out of the cold. This is our cup of cheer.
While classic Christmas movies adorn our TVs, families smile fondly at familiar scenes and favorite punch lines. Christmas list scribbles of puppies and candy, crowd the kitchen counter of muffin tin dishes. They with all their wishes written…the biggest of dreams.
Lines of babies hugging mamas to see Santa, would curl around malls and makeshift north poles. Like the candy canes held in their sweet little fists, we think of how still, to make up for this magic.
So, we climb in cars and look at lights. We plan to ice skate while the moon shines bright. Daily walks a new habit, now all bundled up…we go.
Music of old, pipe out speakers of every radio station. This atmospheric blend reminds us of memories, ones we can see and ones far beyond our reach.
With this tradition of beauty for our senses, hope is brought to the season. Sparkling of something more.
In the midst of double checking our list of to-do’s, in the search for scissors and tape, we pause. For the float of the first snowfall render us quiet. And in the dark morning that feels like night, we become still. We remember with an inkling deep.
The reason for the giving of gifts. The first three, brought by kings.
We write, type, stamp and open Christmas cards because, it’s someone’s birthday.
Our houses, they glow on every corner for he was born as light to the darkest of places.
We sing, and in our making of Silent Night we realize this carol is a worship of our tongue.
Yes…we remember. It is not lost upon us.
When we give presents to one who has little, when we tip extra to the service provided, when we bake twice or three times a batch. When we, generous in spirit, wrap goodies in foil and hand tied bows and invite the lonely into our already filled lives…yes we remember.
We remember the biggest sacrifice, the biggest gift. The longest journey of love the world has ever known. God’s love come down through a baby in a stable. And that life was lived and poured out onto a tree, all for us. And so we hang our wreaths and say welcome.
Welcome Christmas spirit, welcome holy one. Come and anoint us with your gift of giving. With your love never ending. This is the time to take notice. To receive deeply. To open our hands and gaze up with all that is in our heart.
Every treasure wrapped and intention carried, we rejoice with and we remember…you.