Christmas Wonder
Christmas stories vary from one family to the next as much as recipes for holiday cookies. We each have our own Christmas traditions with their accompanying bits of mythology that make Christmas - Christmas!
A seafood extravaganza on Christmas Eve is a required tradition in my family and Christmas morning isn’t Christmas morning without pizza frit – pan-fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar. Opening one present on Christmas Eve after the children have gone to bed is the much-anticipated moment – especially for my mother-in-law. (Although that tradition has deteriorated on occasion into opening all the family bought presents on Christmas Eve!) I recall during my own childhood, how each Christmas my brother and I would experience elves tapping on our bedroom window if we didn’t get to sleep quickly enough. Not surprisingly, that phenomenon has repeated itself every year throughout the lifetime of our two sons -- an especially remarkable event during those years when our sons’ bedroom was on the third floor. But as my father once explained to me: “Elves are magical and can leap great distances when necessary. And as we all know, Santa may pass you by if you try to stay awake and see him. He becomes very private on that sacred evening before Christmas, and that’s why the elves come to your house first to make sure you are asleep.” A friend of mine who was raised in England, always received his gifts at the foot of his bed on Christmas morning rather than under the tree, and not surprisingly “Father Christmas” has continued to honor that tradition in his family throughout their many years here in America.
In all of these rituals there is something precious about life that is revealed, celebrated, and honored. There is a whisper of peace, a brief period of rest, a glimpse of hope, an embracing of the joys that are ours. In other words, the beauty and sacredness of life that sometimes can be elusive, is made real momentarily. The unique sanctity of a family’s life is revealed. Some of what might be is present -- now. With the coming together of friends and family, in the sharing of food and gifts, in the recollection of stories that shape who we are and who we are becoming, there is something beyond the present – beyond the petty – beyond the concerns of everyday life - that allow us to take a step into the eternal. In other words, in our rituals, the past, present, and future converge. In honoring our traditions for what they are – precious, fleeting, alterable, habits and stories that shift, bend, and take on new color with each generation, we become part of that sacred and eternal process of Creation in which the Sacred is unexpectedly palpable – incarnate, if you will.
How I wish I could incorporate these majestic and miraculous possibilities into the fabric of my life. Am I able to trust enough in what might be to taste, feel, and know it as real? How can I experience the consequences of what might be long enough to move into that sacred space a little deeper – to stand in that strange and potentially miraculous reality for just a moment? Can I hold the good that’s available for me and for others and actually see with new eyes, hear with new ears, and speak with a new voice? How do I receive that gift? Because I know it is being offered again.