Birth

“I miss Christmas”.

“You miss your family?”

“Ya”.

 

What was it that made my eyes swollen so badly the next day?  Was it the lights? The deathly silent rooms? The stars, the candles, the shimmering decorations on the cold walls?

Went to church the next day and confirmed what it was that I missed.

Not the idea of old st Nicholas, or elves, or Christmas trees or pretty lights.  Or how much you can spend on food or cakes.

It’s more than that.  Something more meaningful than happy holidays and spending money.

To me Christmas is Birth.  The Birth of Jesus Christ when as God He left His place to become a man.  The birth of Him as man.

It’s Jesus.  The manger.  I know it happens every year, but I love it.  I love how it’s a birthday every year.  I love the romanticized version of all animals smiling at the baby with a halo on His head. I guess in reality it may have smelled like a manger, with animals making strange noises in the background, but I love it.  I love how Mary may have been so proud to hold the baby that was conceived.  How Joseph may have been there thinking yep this is my family.

I love how in some random field far away, where some guys where looking after their flocks, they would have heard angels singing.  Imagine how shocked they would’ve been.  I wish I could’ve seen their faces.  I bet they fell on their knees when they saw the baby.

Then the men from the east.  Great men at their time, going miles to bring precious gifts to the King.

I love sharing that reverence to the birth of the Savior of the world with my family and those I love.  Granted no one knows when He was actually born, we’ve accepted it to be on Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

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