'tis the season...

“Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.

Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more.”

- Theodor Seuss Geisel:

How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

It’s one of those brilliant December mornings where streaks of pastel-colored clouds drift across the sky, calling the sun forth from its hiding place behind the mountain ridges. It is a time of the day I love the most because the morning and I are waking at the same time. It's the moment of transition when I am reminded of my insignificance and, at the same time, a meaningful part of a living universe.

Some reflection…

Christmas in the Southwest is nothing like it was in my youth. While early in the day before the sun arrives, the temperatures are often chilly, the days generally sunny and warm. Snow? On the desert floor, it is an infrequent visitor. While visions of sugar plums and Santa's reindeer and sleigh on snowy rooftops were part of the Christmas narrative in the home of my youth, there is nothing like that here.

In those days, my mother read Clement Moore’s ‘Twas the night before Christmas….’ to us, and we watched Charles Dickens, ‘A Christmas Carol.’ In the end, the diligence of Bob Cratchit, visitations to Ebenezer Scrooge by the Ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future, and the angelic character of Tiny Tim Cratchit, won the day – the morality tale reminding us the importance of humanity and relationships, not to mention redemption!

While those stories brought a sense of wonder to us, the focus in our home was the birth of Christ. Christmas morning at breakfast, my father read the accounts of Christ's birth. He loved the Book of Luke’s rendition and usually began there. I can still hear his voice as he recounted the second chapter on Christmas morning:

“And as it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria). And all went to be taxed, every one to his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the City of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child…”

Matthew’s account was generally next. This was a quiet and solemn time for our family. While we were excited about the possibility of presents under the tree, there was something about the time together and these scriptures that stirred my interest and held my curiosity.

Dad was a passionate man who was tamed by the scripture and ministry to which he was called, but my mother embodied a gentleness that was part of her DNA…seemingly effortless. For her, it wasn't just the Christmas season. She embraced her calling to lovingly instruct her children in the ways of the Lord at every opportunity. She was a great storyteller. Her words slipped into my willing mind like warm butter as she recounted the adventures of Ruth and Samson and Daniel and Moses and Samuel (my all-time favorite). With her words, I could visualize the characters. She lifted the stories from the written page making the characters seem so real I felt like I knew them.

These days…

Life seems to have become more complicated and busy at this time of year. Families will gather to celebrate the day. There will be items to purchase, stories to be told, meals to be eaten, gifts to be given, and things to be done - keeping us busy and engaged. 

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the hustle and bustle of the season nearly over. Many many will breathe a sigh of relief that Christmas is once again gift-wrapped and complete.

Today, as the sun begins to peek its way over the crest of the Catalina mountains, a cup of hot coffee encourages the neurons of my body to waken. Sitting quietly, I hear the voices of my parents reading the scripture and telling stories. Their voices warm my soul and touch my heart, running through my mind like tumbling waters of a brook.  It is good to be with them.

At this season, on this morning, spending a little time with my folks, could not be better. In some ways, they seem as real as if they were here beside me. It reminds me of how grateful I am for the gift with which our species has been endowed. 

The gift of memory.

- ted