It’s 2 in the Morning …


… and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me …

My Christmas anxiety has my brain a’wandering in directions of impending doom. Here I am, enjoying the build up to the most treasured of days in our calendar-yet I am filled with fear and dread. There, I’ve said it-I dread Christmas Day. 

No one would ever guess! How could that lady with the crazy hat and earrings, who smiles and greets all with Merry Christmases should be in such a private battle with herself every Christmas? I could say it’s because I still believe in Santa and although it’s been over fifty years since Santa truly made his visit to me-I still look for him-and am disappointed. I could say it’s because of the unfortunate brouhaha that occurred every Christmas between my parents. If all the Christmas movies are accurate, I am not at all alone in this Christmas tradition! I could say it’s because my expectations are higher than the reality of the day could ever deliver. I could say it’s because I give to receive. I hope and pray that’s not true-but-deep down, don’t we all love presents? Don’t we all want surprises? Don’t we all want the joy and excitement of running into a brightly lit room to see if he came? 

Dear Lord, You did it again! Here I am, now almost three in the morning, and again, You provide a salve to ease the discomfort and soothe my mind, body, and spiritual abrasions! If he came … if he came … if He came-He did!

I looked back at what I had written and found the answers in my own words-if indeed it was my own words!

Brouhaha … I am not alone … expectations are higher … the reality of the day … deliver … give … receive … presents … surprises … joy … excitement … brightly lit room … if he came!

It doesn’t take a nanosecond to see the Christmas Story narrowed down into a list of words! I keep thinking my Christmas dilemma is unique-that somehow I am unable to experience the true meaning of Christmas. I feel sad and alone; my dread-filled heart aches with memories of past pains and sure knowledge of new pains to come. You teach me again, Dear Lord, how I am never alone! You show me how very real the Christmas Story was and still is to everyone who stops-who watches-who waits-who listens for Your still small voice-that voice that is always and forever there!

So, I will try to go back to sleep for a few more hours-or I could sneak into the kitchen and-quiet as a mouse-stir around looking for a nibble or two!

Not a creature was stirring …



In the Bleak Midwinter

Text: Christina G. Rossetti, 1830-1894
Music: Gustav Holst, 1874-1934

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk,
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air –
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man
I would do my part;
Yet what I can, I give Him –
Give Him my heart.




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