Merry Christmas! I hope that you've had a day filled with joy, peace, and the love of family on this day that we celebrate our Savior's birth.
I've never felt more at home than this year at Christmas. I've lived several places that I've called "home," and I've had some pretty memorable holidays, but this year is different. This year, my immediate family lives within ten minutes of each other for the first time in fourteen years (and in the same state for the first time in five years). This year, I also had my own little family to start traditions with for the first time. This year, I got to see the wonders of this season through the eyes of my new baby girl. There's just something that feels wonderful about being home with those I love during this special season.
This year, it wasn't the elaborate light displays or the time I spent carefully wrapping each gift for loved ones that was so special. It wasn't the time spent choosing and creating the perfect Christmas card to send to friends across the country or the festive decorations I placed on my mantle and throughout my home. It wasn't the holiday music or even the beautiful candlelight Christmas Eve service that I will always remember and cherish most about Christmas this year.
It was the privilege of witnessing a modern day Christmas miracle as a friend's baby girl was healed against all odds, and it was the knowledge that they were finally home together after 3 grueling weeks in the hospital.
It was the strength I saw in my tiny, brave cancer patients who had just undergone a bone marrow transplant and would be spending Christmas in the hospital.
It was the late night trip to the mall, baby in tow, to power-walk laps with my [due-any-day] pregnant sister, amidst the chaos of last-minute shoppers.
It was long nights spent soothing my baby to sleep and wondering when I would ever have time to decorate our Christmas tree, and then finally learning to appreciate the beauty and simplicity of the bare tree for nearly a week before it was decorated.
It was the joy on my parents' faces as our entire family gathered around their dining room table to share holiday meals together in their new home.
It was hearing my [almost] 4 year old nephew, who was holding my 4 month old daughter, whisper softly, "Don't worry, Charlotte, I'm holding onto you really tight," during the cousin picture beneath the Christmas tree.
It was the Christmas Eve Campout tradition my husband and I decided to start with our daughter this year. With stockings hanging on the mantle above a crackling fire and a pallet of sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets piled on the living room floor [and Charlotte in her baby swing nearby], we read aloud the story of Jesus's birth, beneath the glow of our tree.
It was drifting off to sleep under that pile of blankets on the floor, imagining what it must have been like on the night of Jesus's birth, sleeping on a barn floor amidst piles of hay.
It was the awe and wonder I felt, knowing that our Savior entered the world through the exact same physical way in which my own daughter was born only a few months ago. He didn't just "appear," as he certainly could have. He didn't come riding into the world in a parade of majestic splendor, as he most definitely deserved. He humbly arrived in the form of human birth, by a mother who labored for hours, and he let out a first cry just as all babies do.
It was knowing that I am home for Christmas this year, but more importantly knowing that I am home forever with the King whose birth we celebrate!
It's so good to be home for Christmas.
-L
I've never felt more at home than this year at Christmas. I've lived several places that I've called "home," and I've had some pretty memorable holidays, but this year is different. This year, my immediate family lives within ten minutes of each other for the first time in fourteen years (and in the same state for the first time in five years). This year, I also had my own little family to start traditions with for the first time. This year, I got to see the wonders of this season through the eyes of my new baby girl. There's just something that feels wonderful about being home with those I love during this special season.
This year, it wasn't the elaborate light displays or the time I spent carefully wrapping each gift for loved ones that was so special. It wasn't the time spent choosing and creating the perfect Christmas card to send to friends across the country or the festive decorations I placed on my mantle and throughout my home. It wasn't the holiday music or even the beautiful candlelight Christmas Eve service that I will always remember and cherish most about Christmas this year.
It was the privilege of witnessing a modern day Christmas miracle as a friend's baby girl was healed against all odds, and it was the knowledge that they were finally home together after 3 grueling weeks in the hospital.
It was the strength I saw in my tiny, brave cancer patients who had just undergone a bone marrow transplant and would be spending Christmas in the hospital.
It was the late night trip to the mall, baby in tow, to power-walk laps with my [due-any-day] pregnant sister, amidst the chaos of last-minute shoppers.
It was long nights spent soothing my baby to sleep and wondering when I would ever have time to decorate our Christmas tree, and then finally learning to appreciate the beauty and simplicity of the bare tree for nearly a week before it was decorated.
It was the joy on my parents' faces as our entire family gathered around their dining room table to share holiday meals together in their new home.
It was hearing my [almost] 4 year old nephew, who was holding my 4 month old daughter, whisper softly, "Don't worry, Charlotte, I'm holding onto you really tight," during the cousin picture beneath the Christmas tree.
It was the Christmas Eve Campout tradition my husband and I decided to start with our daughter this year. With stockings hanging on the mantle above a crackling fire and a pallet of sleeping bags, pillows, and blankets piled on the living room floor [and Charlotte in her baby swing nearby], we read aloud the story of Jesus's birth, beneath the glow of our tree.
It was drifting off to sleep under that pile of blankets on the floor, imagining what it must have been like on the night of Jesus's birth, sleeping on a barn floor amidst piles of hay.
It was the awe and wonder I felt, knowing that our Savior entered the world through the exact same physical way in which my own daughter was born only a few months ago. He didn't just "appear," as he certainly could have. He didn't come riding into the world in a parade of majestic splendor, as he most definitely deserved. He humbly arrived in the form of human birth, by a mother who labored for hours, and he let out a first cry just as all babies do.
It was knowing that I am home for Christmas this year, but more importantly knowing that I am home forever with the King whose birth we celebrate!
It's so good to be home for Christmas.
-L
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