Today is the day after Thanksgiving. We have entered into the towering days during which we find ourselves, willing or not, engulfed in the surge of—not holidays—but holy days.
We find ourselves pushed, pulled, rattled and scrambled out of the dull, colorless, day in and day out struggle to get the bills paid, the kids fed, the computer quieted, the boss satisfied. We try to fight back, “I’m not going to spend too much—eat too much—believe too much—” And time after time we fail. A tune tinkles out of the radio, “Rockin’ around the Christmas tree—” and suddenly the jitterbug deep in us comes to life and we clap our hands and skitter across the floor. In spite of our determination, Black Friday stirs us–maybe just a quick stop after work at the mall or Walmart? And, oh, the Christmas carols, oh, the Christmas carols—
You were strong. Right up to Thanksgiving. And then your mother called. Your sister brings up the subject of pumpkin pies. The kids, rambunctious most of the time, become civilized at the table.
And when you leave the Thanksgiving table, it is with a hazy knowledge that, no matter your resolutions of last week—you are sliding, no, floating, into the great tide of Christmas. You can no more leave Christmas out than leave out breathing.
Because Christmas won’t leave you out. It closes around you like a wonderful mist that you breathe as if it were the air itself. You slip—buy a small gift one day. Take a peek into that dusty old box of Christmas ornaments. Find yourself comparing prices at Christmas tree lots.
And, day by day, you sink deeper into the only celebration we have that is worth celebrating—the knowledge that we are not alone in a cold impersonal universe. But instead have citizenship in the Family of God and a reason to live, work, pray—and celebrate.
Let us cherish these days. They are precious beyond all measure.