Let Your Heart Be Light
I woke up well over an our ago. I couldn’t sleep, which was annoying. But when I opened my eyes, I received the best Christmas gift ever.
I always woke before dawn on Christmas morning when I was a kid. I was far too excited to sleep. I would kick around in my footsies until Chris woke up and said it was ok to go downstairs and wake mom and dad. Dad would fire up Super 8mm movie camera with its blinding spotlight. Chris and I would descend the stairs covering our eyes and grinning like, well, a coupla’ kids on Christmas morning. Mom was seated in her orange floral chair in a pink flannel nighty clutching a mug of coffe like dear life itself. A half-finished glass of milk and scattered crumbs sat on the table with a note. “Thanks for the snacks. Rudolph thanks you too. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa.”
And then we tore into the gifts.
Afterwards, we pulled on matching hats and jackets, and went off to church. It didn’t interest me much. But the story stuck. Whether Mary and Joseph ever really loved each other, or ever really had sex, or whether Jesus was the son of God or not, well, that doesn’t so much matter to me.
My favorite part of the story is the star. Three dudes, on a whim, on faith alone, follow a star across the cold, bleak desert. They bearing gifts, and are filled with love. Best of all, they make it, and they find what they’re looking for: a baby, and a brand new day.
When I opened my eyes this morning, I saw the moon hanging just outside my window clear as a bell: full, and silver, and with a faint halo. I pulled on my matching hat and jacket, and stepped outside onto the roof to watch it slip below the skyline.
The sky is light now, and clear blue. It is Christmas morning. Somewhere there are children ripping through gifts, fathers filming, and mother’s clutching coffee cups. Somewhere, there is a man sifting through a dumpster, and a woman holding her children close against a cold morning.
But everywhere, there is light.