Saturday, December 2, 2006

Dearest God,

I drove home in the dark last night, intermittent snow flurries revealed in my headlights. I had played with my grandchildren (babysitting doesn't sound right) while their parents had a night out. I had fallen asleep on the couch, my six year old granddaughter beside me. Even though it was 9:30 p.m. when the parents arrived home, I was plenty sleepy.

I left their house about 10:15 p.m. The car was cold; I had forgotten my hat, gloves and scarf. The instrumental Christmas music played as the car ignition turned over. I started out, fog on the windows.

The twenty minute drive was scenic. Colorful Christmas lights glowed in yards, on pine trees and inside cozy home windows. In the stillness of the hour coupled with the seasonal music and snow, my mind wandered as I imagined the biblical writer who talked about light in the darkness. When the light penetrates deep darkness, there really is an amazing beauty, almost mystical, magical. As much as one may gaze straight into the light, it's like you can never reach its deepest source. Your eyes want to follow into eternity.

I felt a feeling of calm, like the calm of "Silent Night, Holy Night, all is calm, all is bright..." The calm the composer speaks of is not the absence of anxiety, noise, or people, it is the calm of God, the loving presence, the light in the darkness, the heavenly sound. Although the homes may have had tv's blaring, children crying, husbands snoring, outside it was calm and peaceful. The lights, blue, red, green, yellow, and white (I love the white ones best) lulled me into thinking that all was well with the world. Something symbolic speaks when people decorate their homes with the festive lights of the season. I receive something much more.

I have said it in my letters to you and in brief conversations with others that I want to hear the angels sing this Christmas. Last night the calm was a first entry into heaven.

Quiet solitude.
Darkness.
Tiny, white twinkling lights.
Silent night,
holy night.
All is indeed calm.
And yes, all is bright.
God is present,
on the streets,
in the homes
and in my car.
For a brief moment,
perhaps a very brief moment
all IS
well with the world.

Love always, Andrea