Saturday, November 18, 2006

My dearest God,

I'm getting ready for Christmas. Yes, I'm an early bird. Not that I want to sidestep Thanksgiving. I've been living in gratitude for several days now. Thanksgiving Day will be spent with my daughters. I'm looking very forward to it, especially when we go around the dinner table, each person saying at least one thing for which they are grateful before we pray.

This morning I took down the Maine ocean scene and put up a Main Street Christmas scene. On the mantle I carefully placed all my snow persons (we gave up snowmen years ago). Stuffed snow persons of all sizes and color. Now, "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow." (Well, it did snow this morning, a box of artificial snow flakes fell open and spilled on my lap)

I'm going through all my plastic boxes of Christmas paraphernalia. What I do not want or cannot use, I am giving away to a local shelter. Angels. Ceramic bears. Candleholders. Afghans. Trinkets of all sizes and shapes. Children will enjoy the scenes of Christmas around them. Hopefully the magic will return to children and their mothers, victims of abuse.

Christmas is a very special time for me. Not the shopping, nor the gift buying. It's the spirit I feel coming alive within me. Memories, ah yes, memories of Christmas Eve at the tiny Atlanta Methodist Church. The magical mysteries of light, faith, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, the Word coming to life, family together, cousins sliding down Grandma's hill beside their old log home, raspberry pies and those little bubbling oil candle ornaments on the tree. Singing around the old upright piano, Grandma playing the tunes by "ear." And the prayers she prayed for her beloved family. It was the only time we 13 grandkids and all our parents were quiet.

For me Christmas Eve is a mystical night. In the dark skies, stars twinkling, I look up to see which one is the brightest, the one that shone down to the shepherds who heard the angels sing, pointing the way to the Christ child. I want to be lead there too.

Something happens to us during this season of mystery. Oh, its true, some turn Scrooge grouchy but overall, the sound of Salvation Army bells calling for generosity, Santa holding children on his lap, Christmas trees displayed for purchase, Christmas carolers and Christmas music, parties and plays expand the heart, making room for others.

My Christmas Eve is pretty much spent the same each year. I work during the day getting food and gifts prepared for the big day, then I go to church to prepare for the big night, then I get home late and turn on the Christmas Eve Service in Rome. The Boys Choir music transports me to the mystical realm as I watch person after person come forward to receive the true gift of Christ, the holy sacrament. I sit in my living room staring at the tiny white shimmering lights and I discover myself once again at the stable, listening to the cry of new birth, witnessing the joy of mother and father, animals still as if stunned by the magic of God. Shepherds rushing in, falling to their knees, angels singing their hallelujahs. My heart rejoices once again at the majesty of God, sending forth grace's gift.

I return to my boxes, sorting out the accumulation of Christmas objects. Will Christ return again this year? Will my heart be wide open?

Glorious God,
in the midst of a cold Fall day,
I hear the bells
of Christmas ringing.
The possible moments
of holy presence,
the opportunities
for faith and sacred mystery.
Christmas items all around me
remind me of greater truth,
the love of God
for humanity.
Peace on earth.

Love, Andrea