It's Christmas Night...

It's Christmas Night

By: Max Lucado

It’s Christmas night. The house is quiet. Even the crackle is gone from the fireplace. Warm coals issue a lighthouse glow in the darkened den. Stockings hang empty on the mantle. The tree stands naked in the corner. Christmas cards, tinsel, and memories remind Christmas night of Christmas day.

It’s Christmas night. What a day it has been! Spiced tea. Santa Claus. Cranberry sauce. “Thank you, so much.” “You shouldn’t have!” “Grandma is on the phone.” Knee-deep wrapping paper. “It just fits.” Flashing cameras. It’s Christmas night. The girls are in bed. Jenna dreams of her talking Big Bird and clutches her new purse. Andrea sleeps in her new Santa pajamas. It’s Christmas night. The tree that only yesterday grew from soil made of gifts, again grows from the Christmas tree stand. Presents are now possessions. Wrapping paper is bagged and in the dumpsite. The dishes are washed and leftover turkey awaits next week’s sandwiches.

It’s Christmas night. The last of the carolers appeared on the ten o’clock news. The last of the apple pie was eaten by my brother-in-law. And the last of the Christmas albums have been stored away having dutifully performed their annual rendition of chestnuts, white Christmases, and red-nosed reindeer.

It’s Christmas night.

The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I’m awake. I’m kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed. The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be. We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stop watches and weapons. We stepped off our racetracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.

It’s the season to be jolly because, more than at any other time, we think of him. More than in any other season, his name is on our lips. And the result? For a few precious hours our heavenly yearnings intermesh and we become a chorus. A ragtag chorus of longshoremen, Boston lawyers, illegal immigrants, housewives, and a thousand other peculiar persons who are banking that Bethlehem’s mystery is in reality, a reality. “Come and behold him” we sing, stirring even the sleepiest of shepherds and pointing them toward the Christ-child.

For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. People who have been accustomed to using his name in vain, pause to use it in praise. Eyes, now free of the blinders of self, marvel at his majesty. All of a sudden he’s everywhere. In the grin of the policeman as he drives his paddy wagon full of presents to the orphanage.

In the twinkle in the eyes of the Taiwanese waiter as he tells of his upcoming Christmas trip to see his children. In the emotion of the father who is too thankful to finish the dinner table prayer. He’s in the tears of the mother as she welcomes home her son from overseas. He’s in the heart of the man who spent Christmas morning on skid row giving away cold baloney sandwiches and warm wishes. And he’s in the solemn silence of the crowd of shopping mall shoppers as the elementary school chorus sings “Away in a Manger.” Emmanuel. He is with us. God came near.

It’s Christmas night. In a few hours the cleanup will begin — lights will come down, trees will be thrown out. Size 36 will be exchanged for size 40, eggnog will be on sale for half-price. Soon life will be normal again. December’s generosity will become January’s payments and the magic will begin to fade. But for the moment, the magic is still in the air. Maybe that’s why I’m still awake. I want to savor the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him next August. And I can’t help but linger on one fanciful thought: if he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more could he do if we thought of him every day?

Merry Christmas! May joy, love, laughter, and most importantly, the love of our Savior be with you now and always!

Overheard: Christmas Shirts

In my closet...
Tayv: "Wow Mom, that's a really nice Christmas shirt you have. That one with the snowman."
Me: "Thanks pal."
Tayv: "Do you know what would be even more revrenter though?"
Me: (snickering) "What?"
Tayv: "A Christmas shirt with Jesus on it."

He's been telling me almost on a daily basis that "Jesus is THE MOST important thing about Christmas!"  All this time I thought he was trying to convince himself. Apparently not. :)

Overheard: Camping with a girl...

I walked into Tayv's room where he and Tahn were playing this morning and asked what was going on. The conversation that ensued...
Tayv: "Oh, I'm just telling myself a story about a dream I had about camping with a girl."
Mom: "Oh?"
Tayv: "Yah, and guess what? It was so deep that not everybody could swim out of the swimming pool. So I carried her out."
Mom: "Wow. That was sweet of you. You were camping with a girl?"
Tayv: "Yah. But I really should just camp with boys huh?"
Mom: "Um, probably. Unless your mom is there."
Tayv: "Oh, well Tahn and Daddy were there swimming with us too."
Mom: "That's good!"

It continued from there but this is the part I really want to remember. :)

Our Christmas Card....

I'm only sending out a few Christmas cards this year so you probably won't get one. But in case you were wondering what it says....

"Our Christmas Letter/gift to you..."

"I've gained weight, Nate's going gray, & our kids are average. Merry Christmas!"

I realize not everybody gets my sense of humor. So if you don't think it's funny, that's ok. Because I'm amused with it and it's a Christmas letter Nate can live with. :)

Wishing you the happiest of Christmases and a new year full of laughter and joy!