Christmas Magic

This was the theme of the "reflection" (aka short sermon) at the Christmas eve service. Now, the minister isn't one that my parents like very much, and I had to agree when he told a story about telling his daughter that her friends were WRONG for saying that Christmas Eve isn't special. Who's to say that the friends celebrate Christmas? I certainly don't expect that Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Buddhists, atheists--or even fellow UUs-- consider December 24th to be a special, magical, spiritual day as I do.

But I digress. Despite the minister's dismissal of most of the world's views, and despite my own lack of belief in Jesus as son of God, I find Christmas eve to be a magical time. After 10 years away, including choosing a church where Jesus isn't a key part of the picture(Unitarian Univeralists), I always look forward to the Christmas eve service at the church I grew up in. I almost always sing in the choir--with rich harmonies and fun soaring descants.

Words can't express how the service makes me feel--familiar Christmas carols & anthems I've sung so many times, and the story of Mary & Joseph & the inn and the anticipation and excitement. The light passed from candle to candle until each person has a light and the electric lights are dimmed, the silly plastic cups to protect us from fire & hot wax(this year they were flimsy paper things that were pretty flamable if you ask me--maybe they trust us now?). I'm finally really ok with being the only choir member not to take communion (which means that I stick out like a sore thumb, facing the whole congregation, as the choir files down for wine & bread). I sit there, watching people come forward--kids I remember being born who are now taller than their parents, parents of high school friends I haven't seen in years, an elderly couple that is one of the few other progressive voices within the church (and among the few who know about & support my political work), my parents' friends who probably know more about me than some of you even though I see them once a year.

This year we sung "lulay lulay", a georgeous simple song that I've sung many times--but for the first time I paid attention to the words--which I don't quite remember. The first verse is about Mary expecting a child, and that she could not love him more if he were a king, then the angels come & tell her that her babe will be special, and it finishes saying that when the baby came she could not love him more, she loved him just the same. I like that.

So that was Christmas eve service--even now remembering it fills me with a deep sense of calm. Then before bed, my brother C. insisted on writing a letter to Santa. Here's where I have a hard time with the magic--or with family dynamics. C. has Down Syndrome, and at 29 he still does believe in Santa. And yes, I'll help write the note, but I really can't get into it, even though I appreciate the magic of Santa too.

Christmas itself wasn't particularly noteworthy. It's just our family, and I just haven't been into the holidays this year. Plus dynamics with the 5 of us are grating on me more & more (more on that later?).

But then the next night it snowed. It didn't snow last year when I was home. Geepers I love snow! It's gorgeous! (duh!) Nothing like walking in the moonlight on freshly fallen snow--before the snowplows have come, when the street & sidewalk & yards blend together in sheer silence. I didn't quite have it in me to lay down & make snow angels--too bad my Mom had gone to bed, else she would have indulged my playful snow spirit!