Paxtonvic’s Blog

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It will soon be here….Christmas night by Max Lucardo

Christmas night  adapted from writing by Max Lucardo.

It’s Christmas night. The house is quiet. Even the crackle is gone from the fireplace. Warm coals issue a lighthouse glow in the darkened den. Stockings hang empty on the mantle. The tree stands naked in the corner. Christmas cards, tinsel, and memories remind Christmas night of Christmas day.

It’s Christmas night. What a day it has been!

Spiced tea.

Santa Claus.

Cranberry sauce.

“Thank you, so much.”

“You shouldn’t have!”

“Grandma is on the phone.”

Knee-deep wrapping paper.

“It just fits”

Flashing cameras.

It’s Christmas night. The girls are in bed. In their new Santa pyjamas.

It’s Christmas night.

Presents are now possessions.

Wrapping paper is bagged and in the recycling bin

The dishes are washed and leftover turkey awaits tomorrow’s sandwiches.

It’s Christmas night. The last of the carolers appeared on the ten o’clock news.

The last of the apple pie was eaten by my son.

The singing of White Christmas to a  Kareoke has finished ( thankfully!)

It’s Christmas night.

The midnight hour has chimed and I should be asleep, but I’m awake.

I’m kept awake by one stunning thought. The world was different this week. It was temporarily transformed. The magical dust of Christmas glittered on the cheeks of humanity ever so briefly, reminding us of what is worth having and what we were intended to be.

We forgot our compulsion with winning, wooing, and warring. We put away our ladders and ledgers, we hung up our stop watches and weapons.

We stepped off our racetracks and roller coasters and looked outward toward the star of Bethlehem.

It’s the season to be jolly because, more than at any other time, we think of him.

More than in any other season, his name is on our lips. And the result?

For a few precious hours our heavenly yearnings intermesh and we become a chorus. A ragtag chorus of  shop assistants,  business people, grandparents,  immigrants, housewives, school children, , and a thousand other peculiar persons who are banking that Bethlehem’s mystery is in reality, a reality. “Come and behold him” we sing, stirring even the sleepiest of shepherds and pointing them toward the Christ-child.

For a few precious hours, he is beheld. Christ the Lord. Those who pass the year without seeing him, suddenly see him. People who have been accustomed to using his name in vain, pause to use it in praise. Eyes, now free of the blinders of self, marvel at his majesty. All of a sudden he’s everywhere.

In the emotion of the father who is too thankful to finish the dinner table prayer. He’s in the tears of the mother as she welcomes home her son from overseas.

He’s in the heart of the man who spent Christmas morning with homeless people in a city centre.

He’s in the comforting hands of the hospice nurse and the calm efficiency of the ambulance crew.

He’s in the failing voice of the elderly residents in a home and the wonder in the eyes of a toddler’s first Christmas.

Emmanuel. He is with us. God came near.

It’s Christmas night. In a few hours the cleanup will begin — lights will come down, trees will be thrown out. Size 36 will be exchanged for size 40,  decorations will be on sale for half price.

Soon life will be normal again. December’s generosity will become January’s payments and the magic will begin to fade. But for the moment, the magic is still in the air. Maybe that’s why I’m still awake. I want to savour the spirit just a bit more. I want to pray that those who beheld him today will look for him next August. And I can’t help but linger on one fanciful thought: if he can do so much with such timid prayers lamely offered in December, how much more could he do if we thought of him every day?

Paxtonvic adds: I wonder how you are imaging your Christmas Day to be this year?

December 7, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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