When I was a little girl, I was always really excited about Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I would lay awake in bed listening closely to hear Santa’s sleigh bells. Living in south Texas, we didn’t have a fireplace, but I knew that Santa would come in to the house however he could. We left out milk and sugar cookies for him on the piano bench. In the morning, there would only be a bit of milk left in the glass and just crumbs on the plate, stockings full of fruit and candy along with a special gift from Santa for each of us.
When I was twelve, my grandparents were in a car accident on Christmas Day, while heading to our Christmas evening dinner. Granddaddy died. Ever after that, Christmas always had a bit of a sad touch to it as well. I tried to assuage that sadness by concentrating on the gifts—choosing just the perfect gifts for everyone, and anticipating the gifts I would receive. I found, however, that the feeling of emptiness grew.
As I have reflected on this over the years, I have realized that the gifts don’t really matter to me. I do enjoy seeing others open their gifts. I enjoy their delightedness when I open the ones they gave me. What I appreciate the most is being with those I love—family and close friends—and knowing that in an amazing gift of love God chose to come and live with us in order to bring us life.
So on Christmas morning this year, in the midst of the presents, I will give thanks for my family around me, for my family who lives in other states, for those who I will not see again until the Day of Resurrection, and for friends who fill my life with love. I pray that you may know joy from this gift of God whose love is so full that the Father and the Son and the Spirit all encompass us with ever-flowing grace and mercy.
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