Today I was writing my grandmother wishing her a Merry Christmas. I wrote I would miss being around the table with my family, enjoying an amazingly cooked meal (no one can make custard or pumpkin pie like my mom) and clever conversation. One of my favorite memories from my childhood Christmases were the angel chime candles. They were magic the way the brass angels spun around and around- seemingly on their own. Even when I grew old enough to understand why it worked, I kind of liked to pretend that I didn't know and that it actually was magic. I don't mean magic like wizards might do or tricks that a magician can perform. Rather it was the magic like the mystery of how God could come down from on high, become a man and walk among us, His children.
I know many people in this crazy world have to know answers to questions like this mystery. They argue, fight and spend enormous amounts of energy over Christmas. Or whether God created the earth. Or whether God created a gay person. I truly don't understand how these things are possible, but for me, I don't need that understanding to believe that they actually happened.
In some small way I suppose I'm still that kid I was at Christmastime in Kansas, assemblying those angel candles and then stepping back to watch in awe over the music, magic and mystery of heaven on earth.
Merry Christmas to all my family and friends out there. You are my treasures.