Iíll be taking a break from now
until after the New Year.† This time of
year, there are things more important on which to focus than politics and
politicians.† Take some time off from the
Internet and news.† Focus on your
blessings and your family.† Light a
candle for the members of the
there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their
flocks at night.† An angel of the Lord
appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were
terrified.† But the angel said to them,
ďDo not be afraid.† I bring you good news
of great joy that will be for all the people.†
Today in the town of
Sometimes, I pull my wool hat down over my ears and go for a walk. Moving out of the neighborhood, I get the courtesy bark from the neighborís dog, a curious examination from a couple of squirrels and am nearly trampled by a rampaging buck in rut. He smells a doe somewhere, he just ain't too sure about where. He disappeared into the tree line at a full gallop, so excited he probably ran into a tree and knocked himself out. The leaves are gone from the trees. The air is a little crisp, but for a few flurries, we've seen no snow. Houses and lawns are decorated for the season, some a bit overdone. Christmas cards are going out and coming in. The new Christmas movies are out.† Iíve seen none destined to be classics like Itís A Wonderful Life, which we'll watch for the bazillionth time. For the next few months, weíll wonder if the angel got his wings whenever we hear a bell.† We worry some about presents. What we might get, what weíll give.† The thought that used to go into them doesn't always now. Getting something homemade is practically unheard of. Now, we savor the warmth of the plastic gift card we receive and worry if we spent enough money on the gifts we gave.
I can see smoke drifting up lazily from chimneys in the distance and smell the oak wood fires burning in fireplaces and wood stoves. It isn't there, but my mind tricks me into smelling the spice cake my mother used to bake this time of year. I think about getting a big hunk of it fresh from the oven while it's still steaming. Nothing tasted quite like that, especially chased with fresh milk or hot chocolate. I walk a little deeper into the woods. Nothing smells quite like the woods this time of year.† The dead leaves I kick up while walking have a unique, earthy aroma. A squirrel skitters up the side of a tree right in front of me. He stops, safely out of my reach and watches. I come upon a wild holly bush and stick myself plucking a leaf from it. I make a pinwheel from the stiff holly leaf by putting the sharp points between my thumb and finger and blowing on it just hard enough to make it spin. I think of walking through the hills in the snow with my brother many years ago searching for a Christmas tree.† I think about a wild sled run.† I find a sturdy oak to lean against, pick a twig from a nearby branch and pluck it between my teeth.† I survey the rolling hillside.† The houses in the distance are visible only because the trees are naked of leaves.† I ponder what might be happening in each.† In one, Christmas cookies might be baking.† In another, maybe theyíre trimming the tree.
In my mind, the house is dark.† Daylightís not yet broken.† My heart is beating slightly faster than normal.† Itís Christmas morning.† I slowly move the blankets away and begin to tiptoe toward the living room where the Christmas tree is.† I step on a creaky floorboard and freeze, eyes wide.† I listen, afraid that I might encounter an old elf gentleman and frighten him away.† I peek into the kitchen and see that the cookies dutifully left on the table are gone.† Then, in the dark, eyes still wide, heart still racing, I approach the treeÖ.
walking along the street in
The air has chilled some so I flip the collar up on my down vest and Iím on the other side of the world walking a Christmas Eve post.† Iím barely 19 years old.† Sure, I have plenty of buddies around, but Iíd trade it all for five minutes in that kitchen eating Momís spice cake.† Then I think, because a few of us are willing to be here, many can be there at home.† That thought perks me up some as I look into a glistening star filled sky and snug up the GI wool scarf around my neck.† The clear night makes it colder.† I wish it would cloud up and snow.† Silent Night plays in my head.
Itís Christmas Eve.† Itís nearing the end of the Church service and we light candles, each of us receiving the flame from the last Advent candle Ė the Christ candle.† As the sanctuary lights dim, we raise our candles and sing Silent Night.† Thereís an incredible feeling of peace and hope.
Lying in bed, I realize itís early.† I hear something moving around in the other room.† Slowly and cautiously at first it seems.† Then I hear a rush of pattering feet and a curdling yell Ė Mom! †Dad! †Get up! †Look what Santa brought!† With huge grins and through sleepy eyes I share the joy and amazement.
From Su and I to you and yours.† Have a blessed Christmas.
Copyright © 2004, J. D. Pendry