It's Christmas Eve, a night that I have always found magical -- even after I stopped believing in Santa Claus -- even after I became Santa Claus -- even now that Santa doesn't visit our house any longer.
I love a room that is lit by a Christmas tree, don't you?
I'll never forget the moment that Christmas became more than a favorite holiday and instead became a time to truly celebrate our Lord's birth on this earth. Christmas remains my favorite holiday, but there is so much more to it than just warm and fuzzy family times, more than just memories.
Our Lord and Savior was born in a cruddy stable that was probably loaded with manure everywhere you looked. The lowliest of the low, in human status. He wasn't born in December (as much as I love Christina Rosettie's "In the Bleak Midwinter" -- it ain't true). He was born in the springtime (else why would there have been sheep out in Boaz's fields?).
But I'm content to celebrate his birth at this time of year, knowing that the celebration of His resurrection will also come around in due time.
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care.
And fit us for Heaven to live with Thee there.
By His birth, sacrifice and resurrection, He has fitted us for Heaven.
Blessing on all this Christmastide!