Christmas Eve Eve

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2010

'Tis the night before the night before Christmas and I plop after shopping, wrapping, cooking, decorating and simply wearing myself out in preparation for the high expectations and historical, traditional standards that accompany Christmas. My family gathers equally exhausted from the same preparation plus travel to my humble abode. We will practice gluttony, imbibe and swill too much, watch movies that evoke tears and laughter, and deal with pouty youngsters who have learned to keep score when it comes to receiving gifts. (A wondrous by-product of Accelerated Reader, I suspect.)

I look at the tree and the multi tiered stack of gifts, and it occurs to me that purchasing wrapping paper makes as much sense as buying a wedding dress, save that we will soon wad and toss all the paper while the dress will be hierloomed in some closet, and, I argue, if the marriage is successful, will not fit ever again. But, I digress. Another swill of my friend Johnny Walker, neat, and I return to my theme:

When the gifts are opened, the meal ingested, the dishes cleared, the trash removed, we sit. Family and all their significant others (who have grown to pull on our hearts because our progeny love them) gather in the den or kitchen to catch our breath. And then it hits me. The commercialized rush is over and Christmas really begins.

We are at peace. We love each other. We are present together. I feel the spirit that is the source of the celebration. How I wish this feeling would remain. This calm. This knowing. The sense of blessings beyond the norm and beyond what we deserve permeates this brief space in time and swells even the most sullen and weary hearts. I love. I am loved.

Shattered peace will commence as small gaggles of kin organize disparate shaped boxes and bags, claim Tupperware leftovers, gather coats and kids and proceed to load vehicles that arrived with one set of goods and now prepares to depart with another set not nearly so neatly packed. The photos, the brief kisses, the final chirps of "Merry Christmas," and the gentlemen start their engines, reverse and drive away.

Once gone, I feel empty, sad, happy, fulfilled, and overwhelmed by the piles left behind. Will my home ever look as it did on Christmas Eve Eve? It will, next year, should the good Lord grant me the time. As dark settles I will turn on the outside lights, festive still on this carcass of a building now devoid of life.

Come again, sweet Christmas. Bring to me all those I call mine, all those I love, and theirs. Allow all the love I feel to be felt by all I love.

I am amazed by a God who loves this much and more, cares this much and more, and gave me and you such a precious gift.

Peace to all, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.