It’s different now.
This celebration of a baby king that culminates in a wrapping paper frenzy and tissue paper flurry on Christmas morning has changed with the times.
The times are my children–taller than me and more often transported by wheels, not feet.
I remember when waiting for them to fall asleep meant I could be in bed by midnight; Santa would arrive when dreamy sugar plums started dancing.
Now, Santa arrives to fill stockings in the still and darkness, before the sun rises on a short day, hours before they’ll be awake. About the same time they used to patter down our hallway to wake us up, to spring on our bed with eyes wide and hearts thumping because they had already peeked at the mantel and knew what was waiting–
The Grinch in me wants to damn their growing up, their moving on and out. And yet I’m proud of them, so very thankful, delighted to see who these once little people are becoming.
But their Becoming comes at a price, a sharp pinch to their mama’s heart.
And so now on Christmas morning, it is the mama and daddy who wait. Eyes as tired as theirs once were wide, hearts marking time with each pulse, willing and wishing a slower meter.
This was a peculiar year, the year an ornery tree went dark and the stockings went missing–the kind of things that threaten to rob joy if you let them have their way.
Or you can choose to remember The Why, that baby king born 2000 years ago; for a reason, try as we might, we can’t fully understand. God made man? It’s near crazy talk.
But it helps put into perspective a sorry strand of lights and your babies’ beautiful stockings getting thrown out with last year’s trash.
So I fill their dime store stockings to the overflow with random but deliberate gifts – it’s their very favorite part (mine, too) – padded down the stairs to sip coffee and ready breakfast…and wait…
Preparing and expectant…
Oh my stars how I love this Robin! My Only is in college now but still lives at home and I found myself drinking in moments, knowing full well that this is very likely the last year that her sleeping in her own bed will be under this roof!
That’s a hard knowing. I k n o w….
Merry Christmas, Robin. May you be acutely aware of Him in the midst of the bittersweet… Xo
HAPPY new year!!
Christmas is different here too. Three of the four were here on Christmas Day, and the one with all the littles came the day after.
Christmas is strange without littles around. Maybe it is because the littles in us want someone to share the excitement and wonder that we remember from long ago.
Merry Christmas, Robin!
Oh, how very true, Diane! And, once again, Robin, you have a camera in my soul! Love the nickname “Littles.” Hope you don’t mind if I use it. God bless all you ladies, richly and abundantly this coming New Year. I pray it is happy, healthy, and prosperous. Until we again celebrate the greatest Birthday of all, I remain in His service, now and forever….
Beautiful prayer, Lynn :). Happiest of new years to YOU!
I dread that (can I admit it?). There is something so precious about Christmas through a child’s eyes; and though I’m not looking forward to my babies living apart and maybe not being here Christmas day, I can’t wait to hold my grands!! xo
Christmas is soo different this year. No little ones around and my father is aging to the point of needing assisted living. Kinda disheartening not to have many people to share in the excitement with.
Went to in-laws and ate good meal handed out gifts and talked with one nephew for a few hours, but that was it. Felt like someone pulled the rug out from under me, I guess. Oh, well time does march on much to fast for me.
At least we will always have Baby Jesus born in a tiny manger.
Thanks Robin for a great post!
((hugs)) Beth. Different isn’t bad but sometimes it takes some adapting… 🙂