Change always finds me, like a promise long left empty. Its arrival usually takes my breath away. Maybe all I am describing is the unexpected but still….
This year, the warm and fuzzy of Christmas dropped in larger-than-life–the hope in hopelessness, the extraordinary in the ordinary. It was not one remarkable moment but every moment. And still is.
How to explain change, so rarely what it first appears and more pervasive in its effects than ever thought possible. To say the light of the ordinary arrived so bright is Christmas cliché yet there it is–what I had always believed turned out to be true.
That cliché can come to pass is not out of character for change. I just wasn’t expecting the Spirit of Christmas to move in, with furniture. And lamps. Lots of lamps.
Maybe it’s been here all the time. All I know is there wasn’t a watershed moment, and now, I have all the light I ever need.
Each Christmas, I am filled with the spirit of the giving season, sometimes so much so that I make a plan, like a list of new year resolutions. This year I received a map of life-lands yet to explore, complete with an X. Between here and there is blank.
I’m not thinking about what happens when I get to map’s end. Between then and now are peaks and valleys with light enough for each day’s exploration. May I mine each for all it’s worth.
The season never left. It is I who had yet to arrive.