The other night, I pulled out our one meager little box of Christmas decorations to see if I could transform our apartment into a festive dwelling place for the holidays. I put in my Celine Dion Christmas CD, lit every candle I could find, and started unwrapping our small nativity scene. As I unveiled a solemn-looking shepherd, Celine softly sang "Oh Holy Night." What must it have been like to be a lowly shepherd arriving at a stable to find the newborn son of God? Next, I unwrapped the young, tender-looking Mary. I wondered how she felt when she first held the tiny Christ. So much loving expression was captured on her face. (That’s surprising since I think I bought her at the 99-cent store!) It was one of those quiet, marvelous, reflective moments in life. I love Christmas. I know people that are such bah-hum-bugs who say "you can’t know exactly when Christ was born, so what’s the value of Christmas." You know what? I don’t care when the heck he was born - I appreciate having a time of the year when I can . . . stop . . . put aside the hectic activities of everyday life . . . and think more deeply about God coming to earth in human form. What a gift to have this time. What a precious gift Christ is.
So, anyway, our apartment is looking pretty spiffy right now. I’ve got the stockings hung by the chimney with care. There are a few presents from grandparents sitting by the fireplace. The dishtowels are even decorated with snowmen and poinsettias.
Kevin says he’s having a hard time getting in the Christmas mood because it hasn’t been very cold lately. (It’s been in the 50s.) Granted, it is very weird to see a bright orange-colored tree standing in front of a house lit-up with Christmas icicle lights. It still feels like fall in many respects. But I’m doing my part to help him out by deluging our apartment with Christmas relics. What fun.
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