Ahh the joy of being little at Christmas Time . . .Watching my baby boy sleep under the light of the shining star on top our tree takes me to a moment when I was young . . . Christmas Eve, my family and I are traveling back from a Candle Light service that my Mom puts on once a year. Silent Night still ringing in my head. My sisters and I snuggled as close as possible (Winter always seemed so extremely cold back then) Oakley, of course, calling a window seat, Cayden always being the last to call anything out (unfairly) sits in the middle. I am on the other side of her behind my mom, a faint scent of perfume is being blown about from the warm air that is blasting from the vents. Her scent is circulating us like a warm cocoon tucking us in to her sheltered presence. My Dad driving at a fast and steady speed, calls back to us asking if we had seen what he had just seen in the sky? I press my cheek against the cool glass, searching the sky for any possible sign for my Santa Clause. I just know that if I look hard enough that I will see him, if I hold my breath and try not to blink, then I’d catch him. I can feel it with every being of my seven year old soul that I will catch a glimpse of this magical man in the sky. I can feel my sisters next to me, their hearts at a slow beat, I can see me Dads profile from the light of the radio, and I don’t have to look for my Mom, I know she is always there. Staying in this moment, traveling forever in this car is just fine with me. A presence of peace falls over my tiny body, I can feel my eyes droop; the temperature is perfect, hot to the point of cozy sleep, but the cold from the window keeping me awake, ready to catch a glimpse. I don't see him, I know he is just too fast for me; I know he knows I am keeping watch. I slide back down against my sister using her as a pillow, she never pushes me off or tells me to move over, she lets me lie there, she lets me fall sleep. Ava Maria is gently playing in the background. Slowly I lose the fight. I drift off in to a peaceful innocent sleep, I try to stay awake, but it is just too big of a burden for one little girl and as my last eyelash hits my face one more thought flutters me awake . . . I must remember the cookies . . .
Sweet innocence is what I love most when I look at this sweet chunky southern baby boy in my arms. He is fast asleep without an ounce of thought. All he knows is love. The glow of the tree makes him look just like a sleeping cherub and I can hardly stand not waking him just so that he’ll look at me with those beautiful eyes that he got from his Daddy. I look at him and my love for him makes my chest tight and I know that this is how Mary felt about Jesus.
In a cold Manger in the middle of the night I know exactly how she felt as she looked at her
Beautiful Baby Boy in the moonlight. . .
This is what it is all about . . .
knowing only love
Merry Christmas
