In the hype of the season, as the kids watch Disney’s Santa Clause 3, I’m struck again this year at the effort it takes to remember the Christian celebration of the birth of Christ.  We missed last Sunday since services were called on account of snow.  A blessing to be blanketed for the week.  A rest for the rest of the year.  No school, no usual routine, but also no time to finish up the things I was going to do.  And little time to think, much less mediate, upon the reasons for the celebration in the midst of shoveling the flakes of the season.

Yet, tonight, Christmas Eve beautiful, snowy, having had a fine meal at the local Outback relieving me of kitchen duty (thanks, Steve!)  I’m thinking about the year, the day tomorrow, the changes and the things most unchanged.  As I sit at the table, round for the first time in several years, not set for a Christmas lunch I’m saddened by the loss of my grandmother in August.  Our other annual guests, my aunt and uncle, moved to North Carolina so we’re off to friends who graciously are hosting dinner tomorrow at their house.  It is in moments of intense sense of loss that I most long for the reminder of the comprehensive plan of God seen in the miraculous birth of His son to a virgin, who in a short 33 years will live a perfect life, suffer an agonizing death for a crime not committed and die.  Then, three short days (to those of us not waiting in an upper room) he’ll rise again overcoming our most dreaded enemy and fulfilling all of our hopes for eternity.

Merry Christmas to all!  May this be a year of reminder of how much God loves you and has given that you may know it.


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