From his outstretched hand, the gift is given on Christmas Eve night outside our home. "Merry Christmas," he nonchalantly states as I turn around. The gift is received into my own outstretched hand, an oak leaf, brown and dead, forgotten on the earth. "This is the best gift, my favorite gift," I say, attempting to look into his dark, brown, seven-year-old eyes, still innocent, still unable to overlook the beauty all around us, still with a mind able to be present in the moment, a mind void of empty thoughts and vain ideas. "How delicate it is, how lovely. I will hang it on the refrigerator. Thank you."
From the green couch, faded and worn, the five of us huddle, crocheted blankets warming our bodies, still being jarred awake by the chilly air outside the comfort of our beds. "Look little ones. See the sun as it begins to pour into our living room. See how it moves from the window on the door and illuminates the fall leaves pressed in wax paper still wistfully hanging from a white thread. See how it strikes the ornaments on the tree. How beautiful is the light. Stop reading. Look. Let's not miss it. Good morning dear earth. Good morning dear sun. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it."
From our front yard on an unseasonably warm January day, I see him running. A small plastic bottle abundant with the water sanctified at church the evening before is clutched in his hand. From their lips pour high-pitched squeals of laughter as their oldest brother sprays holy water onto their thrust-back heads, into their cavernous mouths. From his hands, life-giving water spreads over the cracked ground, the barren trees, the withered plants, dead and dormant. From the doorway, I watch, enamored by their spirited, unfettered play, their lust for life, and I cry out, "Bless it. Bless all of it." From the stillness of my heart, I offer a prayer of thanks for the gift of the incarnation, for His spreading of Himself over all that is dead and dormant and calling it to life and holiness. Truly all of creation rejoices on this day.
Little chefs preparing to make cupcakes for Three Kings Day.
The Joy of the Feast!
3 comments:
Lots of love to you! love the pictures! :)
Dear Beth, Thank you for these pictures and your words! I savored them. You are a good, good mama. I miss you all very, very, very much.
Your children are beautiful! You know that, right? And my only sadness and longing from this beautiful post is that we could somehow be more intertwined with your family.....could hang out together.....could play, visit, eat and drink together. In our hearts we do. God bless your new year!
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