It is officially the Christmas season! I'm grateful for this special time. For Christmas trees, and in particular the Fraser Fir now adorned with white lights and shiny Christmas balls that is keeping me company tonight.
And for Christmas Carols, that make any day brighter and warmer.
But mostly, for Jesus and for his precious life. And for the way this whole season carries residual magic from when God was born on earth. It's not a Hallmark thing, or even a media thing. Christmas has always been special, since before TV sing-a-longs and Rockefeller Center. Even since before Mariah Carey's seasonal album.
I think there is something precious and pure about the Advent that nature itself celebrates. Air molecules, mountain peaks, the deer that survive hunting season all sense the profundity of this time. That angels perhaps sing another rendition of the song that terrified the shepherds. The seen and unseen worlds connect in a way closer than normal, in memory of that day, two-thousand-and-some years ago, when Jesus put one foot in each.
The first Christmas was a celebration complete with choir harmonies, lavish gifts, and brilliant stars. A moment in time when all was as it should be. Not easy, and not an escape from reality. But rather a taste of what life is meant to be. The way things really are, or at least the way they will be when the darkness is over. There was not sadness on that night. It was a tiny sliver of Heaven on Earth and that is what calls to the well of my soul.