Closing of the Year – Putting Away Christmas

Greetings Dear Reader,

I will be taking down the tree and most of the decorations this week.  It always saddens me to do so.  I leave something of Christmas up throughout the year.  There is the small nativity on my desk.  The ghostly Santa face in a light keeps my writing space lit.  The Blue Nativity is in my bed room and there are always Christmas dishes in the cupboard. 

I put away the trappings for Christmas because they are not common to me.  The bringing out and decorating each year is an act of worship.  Their absence is an exercise in keeping the attitude, spirit, and joy without the devices.

My love of Christmas is seeded in the celebration of Christ.  I close the year with the acting out of that celebration but strive to live it out all year long.  I find great joy in being a source of hope and peace to others whenever I can.

I miss the bubble lights but want to always reflect the Light of the World.  I miss the special events but want celebrating Christ and his incarnation to be a daily thought.  I still play the music in my place and car when the mood strikes. 

The stores are busily moving Christmas to the clearance isle.  Joy and Peace are marked down to 50%.  Good will toward men seems tucked away until next fall.  The bells grow silent and the deep mid-winter is upon us.  Not, however, for me.  

I am really one of those who thinks “It is only 361 days until Christmas”.  I think of the celebration of the incarnation every day.  I see the year as a cycle of reminders of the story of redemption.  From December to December I attempt to find a moment each day where I can live the spirit of Christmas with my fellow humans.  I will put away the decorations but never put away Christ.  How about you Dear Reader?

In the Bleak Midwinter – Sarah McLachlan

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter, long ago

Angels and archangels may have gathered there

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss

Oh what can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part

Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart

In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds made moan

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part

Yet what I can I give Him, give my heart

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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