Can You Hear Me Now

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

Charles Dickens

I am not a Christian and despite that fact that I regularly attend Sunday services at a Unitarian church, I am not anything in particular. I have a strong sense of spirituality and attempt to practice a life of love, giving, and a sense of wonder, but I don’t believe in supernatural gods. I don’t find them necessary.

However, I love a good story and find wisdom in the stories of many religions. It doesn’t matter if it’s the Christian Bible or the Muslim Koran. We all have the same struggles and the ancient texts provide us with examples of people who rose above hardship and went on to do great things. I’ve learned much without having to believe in everything they espouse.

And so it is with the Christmas story. I love the idea of a poor scared teenager giving birth to a child destined to change the world, and it doesn’t matter if any of it actually happened. It also doesn’t matter if it’s the combination of many stories told well before the time of Jesus. I am drawn to the meaning rather than the historical accuracy.

I am also drawn to the idea that every day day across the world a child is born who can also change the world. Whether it’s a baby born in horrible poverty or one of my own grandchildren, every child carries the spark of change.

Some, like baby Jesus, are faced with difficult obstacles. The Christian Bible says that Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt to avoid King Herod’s decree to kill all babies born in Bethlehem.

This makes me think of all the young mothers today who are running from murderous gangs and horrendous poverty. Like Mary, they are refugees seeking shelter in strange lands. Are not they also being told that there is no room at the inn?

My grandchildren are not facing the struggles that too many children across the world endure, but they will have pains of their own. Life is hard and no one gets through it unscathed. As a loving grandfather, I see in them my hope for a better world. Perhaps one or more of them will tackle the mess they’ve inherited and make a measurable difference. They have my blessing, but they will need a lot more than that to undo centuries of racism, hatred, and inequity. My generation tried and although we made some progress, it’s a game of inches.

Unexpected Gifts

I am writing this on Christmas morning. Linda is still in bed and my family doesn’t converge here until early afternoon. Before then, I have lots to do. There is a house that needs to be vacuumed and a ton of food that needs to be prepared.

Therefore, I will stop here. Did I say everything I had hoped to say? No, but none of my blog articles ever accomplish that. I am signing off with sense of peace during these frightening times, though. That’s what the old stories are good for and that alone is worth celebrating.

Joy to the world. Thank you for reading.

Tiny
windblown snowflakes
spinning
twirling
dancing before my eyes

Frozen fireflies
they sparkle and glow
like Mother Nature’s Christmas lights

Shining
laughing in icy illumination
on this cold and sacred
silent thoughtful night