Authentic season
Our guests are gone. Thanksgiving has past. The lights are flashing up and down our Christmas tree. A new season, Christmas, is approaching.
Contemporary films poke fun at the awkward family gatherings where lies are told, secrets are shared, and in general paint a dismal view of the holidays fraught with conflict, mishaps, and unhappiness. Family films present such idealistic scenes that Christmas candy appears bitter by contrast.
What makes Christmas authentic?
It is no longer the magical anticipation of gifts placed under tree branches, or tucked into stockings. It is not climbing ascending stairway up the Singing Christmas tree at the mall, or walking by elaborately decorated storefronts downtown. It no longer consists of lengthy car rides along snowy pathways to see extended family. We seldom put out the cookies and milk beside some carrots on a platter for Santa and friends. Those moments have faded, returning only when pages of my mind are turning.
The music, the lights, the smells, the holiday greetings, and the familiar scriptural readings are the remnants seamed together each year. They capture, enclose, and bind the newness of each holiday season.
Adventurous drifts of crystal white, mingled with blues and greens entwine with swirls of cold curved carvings. We ski, we sweat, and we challenge our abilities as we meet the cool air with layers of winter clothing.
Fidgeting fingers touch figures and ornaments arranging them by color, sequence, and size. Stories and questions erupt as children frame our tree, and living spaces. Where did this come from? Why is it so? Can I have it when I’m grown?
Toasty glowing chatter breathes into the scented evening around our table of treasured companionship. We meet with friends, and talk of kids, family, health, and the future plans. Gratitude for enduring ties deepens our souls.
The room rearranged, the tree skirt warmed by continuously twinkling lights, our cat curls safely tucked between packages and bows.
Beneath the tablecloth, lurking between chair legs, our dog sniffs and samples morsels tumbling from above like falling stars.
Telephones ring. Computers hum.
Between them all the season sweeps in and we wonder – can we not keep the spirit all throughout the year?
Contemporary films poke fun at the awkward family gatherings where lies are told, secrets are shared, and in general paint a dismal view of the holidays fraught with conflict, mishaps, and unhappiness. Family films present such idealistic scenes that Christmas candy appears bitter by contrast.
What makes Christmas authentic?
It is no longer the magical anticipation of gifts placed under tree branches, or tucked into stockings. It is not climbing ascending stairway up the Singing Christmas tree at the mall, or walking by elaborately decorated storefronts downtown. It no longer consists of lengthy car rides along snowy pathways to see extended family. We seldom put out the cookies and milk beside some carrots on a platter for Santa and friends. Those moments have faded, returning only when pages of my mind are turning.
The music, the lights, the smells, the holiday greetings, and the familiar scriptural readings are the remnants seamed together each year. They capture, enclose, and bind the newness of each holiday season.
Adventurous drifts of crystal white, mingled with blues and greens entwine with swirls of cold curved carvings. We ski, we sweat, and we challenge our abilities as we meet the cool air with layers of winter clothing.
Fidgeting fingers touch figures and ornaments arranging them by color, sequence, and size. Stories and questions erupt as children frame our tree, and living spaces. Where did this come from? Why is it so? Can I have it when I’m grown?
Toasty glowing chatter breathes into the scented evening around our table of treasured companionship. We meet with friends, and talk of kids, family, health, and the future plans. Gratitude for enduring ties deepens our souls.
The room rearranged, the tree skirt warmed by continuously twinkling lights, our cat curls safely tucked between packages and bows.
Beneath the tablecloth, lurking between chair legs, our dog sniffs and samples morsels tumbling from above like falling stars.
Telephones ring. Computers hum.
Between them all the season sweeps in and we wonder – can we not keep the spirit all throughout the year?
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