"...listen to the magick..."

I’ve been thinking about Christmas. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

I was thinking tonight, standing in line at the grocery store that something has changed. The bag-boy thanked me when I used the word ‘Christmas’ in the space of ‘Holidays.’

I thought that was odd.

My family, so evidently wrapped and hung together on the tree, is now drawing boundary lines across areas codes and cell phone plans. Funny, we used to argue about who stole whose sock mates.

I heard carols this evening, across a telephone line, from the upstate. It gave new meaning to long distance call.

It still made my heart full.

These are just words. I keep telling myself that. They are just.

They’re nothing more.
But they’re my gift and so, for Christmas, I have little else.

The year Two-Thousand-And-Nine was not especially good to me. It was not my ally in all situations. But in God’s creeping sense of pervasive education, He has taught me that when everything is down: there is usually enough. (Because He is enough.)

And enough, in itself, is all that is needed.

I have made mistakes. I’m falling down. I’ve learned that this life is not easy. I tried to do handstands, I learned the shiny bruise—I am still singing some of the songs I thought I turned off years and years ago.

But if this is my season of enough, I am unafraid. So to the year Two-Thousand-And-Ten, I say: rejoice.

And:
Get. At. Me.

For He who is greater, we will not sacrifice in deed or in name.

Merry Christmas.