Christ is the Reason

It seems incredible that the year has flown by. Thanksgiving is behind us and Christmas looms large on the horizon.  Maybe it's my age, but the days just seem to vanish almost before they've arrived, and one happy event is barely over before another is about to be celebrated. 

True, slick marketing is designed to leave little time between my two favorite holidays.  Even as a child, I had hardly finished my last piece of Thanksgiving pie before Santa Claus would visit our town.  There he was, at the end of November, riding down the street in a firetruck, throwing candy to all the kids, waving and yelling "Ho, Ho, Ho!!"  I loved it.  It was a thrilling way to start the Christmas season, and to have missed his entrance would have been unimaginable to me.  For an entire month I was filled with anticipation.  I would sit on the sofa, flanked by my sisters, and leaf through the Sears catalog.  Though we knew that our widowed mom couldn't afford much, half the fun of the holiday was imagining the gifts that might be granted.  Just the thought of unwrapping a paint set, a doll, or a new box of crayons and a coloring book was enough to make me crazy with excitement.  It's odd that I don't remember any other presents, because I'm sure there were others under the tree.  For some reason, it was these simple gifts that held the greatest meaning to me.  They were the treasures I would use again and again, and enjoy over and over as the months slipped by.  

Yet, there were other things about the season that settled into my heart  and formed the foundation of how I saw--and would always see--this most special time of year. St. Michael's Catholic Church always had a large nativity scene on the front lawn.  In every Christian  church in town congregations could be heard singing the hymns of the season, and the ringing of the church bells was a sweet reminder of Christ's birth as their chimes filled the Sunday morning air with Christmas carols.  In those moments it seemed that all thoughts had turned to the blessed Savior and His birth.  In my own church, when the organ began to play and the first strains of Silent Night filled the hall, Santa was all but forgotten.  In mind and heart I was transported across two thousand years, and for a while I lingered in a far away place called Bethlehem.  The feelings were deep, the emotional and spiritual connections were real.  I knew this was no story made up to quell my fears about life, or to give me some kind of false hope for my future.  Jesus Christ really had been born in a stable to humble parents, visited by shepherds, sought after by wise men.  He really had lived and labored to teach love, forgiveness, and faith.  He was real, His message of peace was real; His injunction to "Come, follow me" was real; just as real now, looking back over two thousand years, as it had been when He raised the dead, healed the blind, forgave the sinner, and died that I might live.  As I joined in the singing, all was calm, all was bright, for I knew that Jesus Christ was the reason for these joy filled words; and in spite of all the frenetic activity that might be going on during the rest of the week, peace filled my heart.  No doubt, the music helped to instill that sacred sense.  However, more than the music and the love expressed during the season, I knew it was the Savior, His life and His message of hope, that inspired such deep feelings of peace.   

Today, as I approach this special season, I still feel that peace.  As I buy and wrap gifts, prepare food to serve to loved ones, decorate the house, and sing Christmas hymns, I know there is more to these activities than the outward motions.  Christ is present in these expressions of love and giving.  He is at the heart of the preparations and plans, for He is the embodiment of giving and love.  He is the reason for the season, and the meaning behind it all.