Carol Jane Remsburg
The Night Before the Night Before . . .
It's the night before the night before Christmas. My offspring is now bent in an unnatural way. The human form cannot be bent into such an angle without breakage. The day of gifts, food, and purity of spirit are only hours away. Her angst is like mine, not over the gifts but of the surety of her acceptance with grace of the gifts she will receive and give.
The night before the night before is one of grace which all of us should accept and adore. The want and the need to become special and within the light of love burns strong, it's a bright thing.
Our circle is one of close bonds though we would encompass the world with our burgeoning love if we could. It's that childlike hope that supports even the jaded among us. We hope, we share, we reach, and we love. It's the idea that we are not alone in this world.
We buy gifts that our budget scoffs at and prepare feasts that our pocketbooks laugh at. Still, we do this. We stretch and we reach. We are full of the wonder of the season, we don't question the reason or rhyme, we just do and pay the price later on. We don't grouse about it. Our offerings are a gift we manage. It's our love as we open our hearts and bare them to others as we give.
Christmas is the one time of year that sentimentalism isn't scoffed at. Even the Grinchs and the Scrooges among us sneak in their love under the cover of materialism or some other venue. We all manage it even if it's only the Christmas tree.
I know a family that moved just last week. It took all their funds, even for the tree, just to manage the move. There will be no Christmas in their house this year unless someone arrives with packages wrapped in foil and ribbon and brings a tree.
I don't know about you, but I've the presents and a tree will be forthcoming. I'm also bringing a feast worthy of the name.
My home is warm and my family is safe. Why wouldn't I offer the same to another? That's the whole meaning to the season—giving.
For those of us nestled safe and warm, it's time we look outward. Let us all help those who have tried and cannot yet manage the Christmas season for themselves. It's then we know we've done our best and feel the true warmth of the season. That itself bears the true ring of giving and the glory of the rite.
May yours be as merry as mine. Bless you.