Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Christmas Day

Smoke from my neighbors’ chimney sweeps horizontally across my window view, barely visible through the naked forsythia branches that all seasons filter my view of the world.  Here, then gone as perfidious wind changes direction merely because it can (I know there’s science and wind does not will, but grant me the imagining), and all I am left with are bare branches, bereft of the little birds that people their limbs most days in this time of winter.

It is Christmas.  Blessed Christmas.

So what if we do not know the exact birthday date?  So what if it’s a made up day?  So what if pagans had the day first?  It is a remembering . . . living . . . breathing . . . laughing . . . loving . . . contemplative . . . peering-through-branches kind of day worth keeping.

Why do I, born to modernity living into post-everything, cling to these old ways and observe these old days?

Because even my atheist father found joy in Christmas. . . because every Christmas carries with it the remembrance of people and places and times past as well as the promise of times yet to be, whether I inhabit them or not – no matter.

Because every baby carries promise and possibility.

Because I have caught around-the-corner glimpses of the peaceable kingdom and it is glorious.

Because that’s what I was made for.

That’s why I hold fast to Christmas.

How about you?


  1. Regardless the motivation, people treat each other differently at Christmastime. If we kept it up all the time there would be so much less arguing and so much more time left for industry (human industry, like reading to kids, playing with kids, learning important stuff that matters) it would be fantastic.