At the beginning of the Christmas season, I was feeling a bit flustered and uninspired about the big ole month ahead. It was 84 degrees, for goodness sake. Too hot for hot cocoa, or fudge-making, or snuggling under blankets. I felt confused and frustrated that our days weren't rolling along like last years - gray, wet, and cold. Ah...what a perfect first winter we had in our new home.
Still, we bought a tree, put on a Bing Crosby LP, decorated it, all while sweating and giving in to using the AC, then called it a day. The thing is, no matter what sort of upside-down weather global warming throws in our direction, little people know none of the cynical attitudes. What is here is what matters and it is exactly as it should be. The act of having a tree, sparkling with lights; the fact that we end our days in candlelight because the daylight hours continue to shrink; the joy we feel reading story after story of a man and woman searching for place to sleep on a cold winter's night; and the miracle of a babe being born in a stable is really all it takes for a child.
Beatrix told me a few mornings ago as we were watching the sunrise above the trees across the street from us, "Mama, it's another beautiful Christmas day." Indeed, it was another beautiful day. We were together. The sky was transforming right before our eyes from the deep ingigo hues to the early morning shades of lavender and pink. The season was upon us. There was love and peace in the space between us.
Thankfully, she is still at an age, where every gift could be by-passed without a wince and these days would still be overflowing with that magical "something" . Magic is in the moments and the intentions of our actions. Magic is in the golden light of the early evening sun. Magic is in the believing and magic is in the clear winter night sky displaying a thousand stars. It's forever in this ordinary life, unfolding one day after another.
A few years ago, I discovered the Christmas carol, "The Friendly Beasts" which quickly became one of my favorite songs ever! I fell in love with this song during Beatrix's first Christmas. She was 8 or 9 months or so and in that perfect baby stage - interactive and busy during her waking hours, yoddling and waving, continuously collecting dust bunnies as she crawled into every nook and corner. She was compact and solid and every bit still a babe. I remember there being many long afternoon naps and cloudy, gray skies. And I remember playing "The Friendly Beast" song over and over. After waiting for so long to become a mama, I had this feeling, that in my arms, in our home, Byron and I received our own special miracle. Truly, when Beatrix came home with us, it was as if the angels were singing and the world was rejoicing. There was a feeling of trying hold on to it all coupled with the bittersweetness of the fleeting time. It was the dearest of all Christmases up until that point.
A few years later, we still rejoice in our little miracle child. She no longer snoozes peacifully on wintery afternoons. However, she sings herself to sleep at night. There has been a time or two in the days just passed, when, in the evening hours, as I am cleaning up the kitchen one last time for the day, my mama heart melts into a puddle right there between the sink and the refrigerator. Streaming from her bedroom, down through the hallway to where I stand, I hear the lyrics of "The Friendly Beasts" being sung by a dear little one, snuggled under the blankets of her bed.
"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown, "I carried your mother up hill and down. I carried your mother to Bethlehem town. I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown.
It's these small and almost indescribeable moments that I want to tuck away in my heart. Those are the ones that define this magical time of the year and make me overwhelmingly proud and content for the life I get to live.
