Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Day 360: Christmas Day

Today, I woke up to the sounds of a four-year-old girl's excited, ecstatic voice. When I crawled out of my bed, opened the door, and came out of my room and walked down the hallway, I could see her sitting at the kitchen table all by herself. Lord knows how long she had been awake and sitting there. But there she was nonetheless, as content as could be, just drawing a picture for Santa Claus and letting the rest of the people in her house sleep away with all those presents just a few feet away. How tempted and enticed she had to have been. How full of fantastic anxiousness she must have been sitting on and trying to contain. But there she sat at that table, talking to herself, giddy, bubbling, and enraptured as she drew that picture. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything so beautiful. 

To me, the vision of that child is what Christmas has become. 

To me, seeing my four children, spanning four to 20 years in age, sitting in the same room, that's what Christmas has become. 

To me, gathering around a table and eating good food and feeling utterly fulfilled is what Christmas has become. 

To me, feeling as if time outside the walls of my house was standing still and there was nothing bad or evil or tainted that could enter them is what Christmas has become. 

To me, Christmas has become an event that seemingly has to have very little to do with me for me to enjoy. Christmas has become a long, steady day of observation. Watching my kids. Watching my wife bask in their company. Watching them interact. Watching this intimate life that I've become part of play out so wonderfully. No complaints. No hidden agendas. No selfishness. Nothing but purity. That's what Christmas has become. 

Never before on Christmas have I opened so few presents, and never before on Christmas can I remember feeling as much joy. 

It's an amazing feeling being able to provide such happiness. To be able to work hard and have the means to let that work make happiness for others possible. And not just the happiness that is buying and giving gifts, but the happiness of being able to create a home in which they can gather. A diverse but intertwined home. Not a house. A home. 

I'm going to carry the vision of my daughter sitting at that kitchen table with me for many years to come. I'm going to let the vision of her innocence and excitement roll through my memory over and over. I'm going to hold on to those fleeting seconds when I just stood there and watched her, and I'm going to remember her childish beauty. What a gift, and what a day. I truly am a lucky man. 

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