Sledding on Christmas Eve
My brother, his sons and I went sledding today. I really enjoyed it. I was also happy for the boys. I was glad they got to go sledding instead of to a Christmas eve service. We were sledding on a hill next to a church, and I saw the envy on more than one child's face as they stared at us and walked toward the church. I think I would have wanted to do both when I was a child.
I loved the beauty of a Christmas eve service, and there was nothing like a great afternoon and/or evening of sledding. Had it been sledding with family, time on the hill would have trumped the Christmas eve service any year.
Christmas eve was often spent on the road to, or at grandmother's house. I would actually regret not being at our church in Corsica then. It was (and is still) a beautiful sanctuary, especially when lit by candles. I miss that special glowing feeling. The joy of candle light, of anticipating baby Jesus showing up, of hearing the carols sung, of receiving a bag of goodies from the church, and knowing that presents were waiting for me at home, made this night my favorite of the year. Not to mention my hopes of hearing sleigh bells and hoof clops on the roof, or seeing a reindeer fly.
Christmas eve was a night when hope boiled over within me. It was a night when I always hoped for more - more peace, more light, more joy. More time to sled. And now I feel the need to say, "Enough hoping."
I now choose the experience of the moment. Unless I don't. Then I choose things that get me back to hoping for one more thing to make me happy. But happiness is not in one more thing. Happiness is now. I choose the joy of being human, of knowing sorrow, of feeling joy, and sadness and anger. Less thinking. More experiencing and feeling. It means sometimes having hopes, sometimes despairing, sometimes sledding with the boys and sometimes missing my family, knowing full well there is grace for me in each moment, in each step up the sledding hill, or in each mile I fly away from South Dakota.
I wish you all the experience of the moment this holiday season. Blessings to you and yours.
I loved the beauty of a Christmas eve service, and there was nothing like a great afternoon and/or evening of sledding. Had it been sledding with family, time on the hill would have trumped the Christmas eve service any year.
Christmas eve was often spent on the road to, or at grandmother's house. I would actually regret not being at our church in Corsica then. It was (and is still) a beautiful sanctuary, especially when lit by candles. I miss that special glowing feeling. The joy of candle light, of anticipating baby Jesus showing up, of hearing the carols sung, of receiving a bag of goodies from the church, and knowing that presents were waiting for me at home, made this night my favorite of the year. Not to mention my hopes of hearing sleigh bells and hoof clops on the roof, or seeing a reindeer fly.
Christmas eve was a night when hope boiled over within me. It was a night when I always hoped for more - more peace, more light, more joy. More time to sled. And now I feel the need to say, "Enough hoping."
I now choose the experience of the moment. Unless I don't. Then I choose things that get me back to hoping for one more thing to make me happy. But happiness is not in one more thing. Happiness is now. I choose the joy of being human, of knowing sorrow, of feeling joy, and sadness and anger. Less thinking. More experiencing and feeling. It means sometimes having hopes, sometimes despairing, sometimes sledding with the boys and sometimes missing my family, knowing full well there is grace for me in each moment, in each step up the sledding hill, or in each mile I fly away from South Dakota.
I wish you all the experience of the moment this holiday season. Blessings to you and yours.
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