Calm and Bright

It has been quiet here, hasn't it? I don't really have any explanation, exactly. But it has been good. I feel ready for the flurry of feasting and giving and receiving of the next few days. All our extended family celebrations will be happening before Monday, so Christmas Eve and Day are all ours, for worship, and simple food. Scattering glittery oats on the lawn for Santa's reindeer, rising early, curling ribbon and muffin crumbs, and two boys impossibly taller than last year. For once I feel ready to drink in all its messy glory.

This year feels different. We did the dinner party, and it was fun and busy and festive, and then I just. . . stopped. The days since have been quiet. I had a visit from a dear friend, and Joshua had a school program. Sam stood up so straight to sing in church, and we caroled on the coldest night yet. But mostly it has been reading The Long Winter aloud to the boys, opening a new door in The Advent Book each evening, drawing Christmas trees and reindeer over and over, and playing a CD changer full of holiday music on the stereo next to the tree.

I let go of many things. We were so inundated with homemade treats from others that I have not baked very much, and for the first year, we have not sent Christmas cards. I imagine myself writing some letters in January to dear ones. We said no to several events; if we were trying to decide and it seemed like a bit too much, we said no.

And just now that feels just right. To know that I would not have traded one peaceful hour for our own greetings to be winging into others' mailboxes, or to purchase one more "perfect" gift, or to turn out Martha-worthy trays of confections. Our kids are still young, and their boundless delight in the small ceremonies and celebrations of home is a luxury I am reveling in.

We have many traditions that are the bones of our Christmases, but the character and shape of them is different every year. Every year we discover a new tone to our celebration, and perhaps this is uniquely appropriate for a holiday that is not a day at all, but a Person. May we, may you, as we savor Christmas, meet Jesus in some fresh way. Let us make Him room, as the hymn says, let heav'n and nature sing.