His belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly. With a twinkle in his eye, rosy cheeks, and animated facial expressions, he exclaims, “Ho, Ho, Ho” -- over and over again. And we laugh over and over again. His vocabulary is limited, but he’s got the signature chant of Jolly Old St. Nick down to a tee and we can’t get enough of it. “It” being the joy our toddler brings.
Every morning my older son races to the front entryway where an old canvas countdown calendar hangs. He moves the little mouse a day forward and counts down the days to Christmas. Sometimes he moves it forward a couple of days and I smile as I move it back.
I did the exact same thing as a child waking up with eager anticipation to inch the mouse forward, thinking I could make Christmas come a little sooner by skipping days. I shake my head thinking just how much he acts like me.
Our house is decorated in bright multicolor lights now. My husband and I recall our decade without kids and how everything was meticulously placed. The lights were white and the ornaments were matching and spaced out perfectly. Now the bottom half of our tree is empty, the bead garland is falling off, and the top half is exploding with keepsake ornaments. I wrapped the hooks around the branches so our most valuable ornaments, the hand prints and painted Santa’s, do not fall off.
Vacuuming pine needles for the millionth time, I stop and look around the room. I notice my son has rearranged the Nutcrackers again -- the ones I’ve had to glue back together several times this season. He’s put them in order from shortest to tallest.
My grandparents’ music box, which is probably seventy years old, is placed out of reach of little hands. It still plays Jingle Bells, but the Mr. and Mrs. Claus don’t move anymore. I recall a Christmas spent in Northern Illinois at their house. My Mom and my Grandparents rolled up cash and hid it all over the tree and room. We had flown there and Santa thought cash was easier to pack in the luggage. I was thrilled and spent the next day shopping with my Mom and Aunt.
Replacing the tree skirt, I stare at our disheveled tree. It’s the most magical one I’ve seen yet, I think to myself. The year has gone by so fast and I refrain from counting down how many years left of handprint ornaments and Christmas mornings with the four of us.
When I worked in a store, the holiday season couldn’t be over soon enough. Now all I want is for it to linger a little longer.
Years of working retail makes me cringe when the Christmas music starts the first of November. But I will endure Frosty, Rudolf, and Jingle Bells over and over again just to hear my big boy sing and watch the two of them dance in the living room. My car radio is permanently set to the holiday station and the karaoke session continues on our rides.
Driving home shortly past five the other night, I uttered how much I hate how it gets dark so early this time of year. Then my favorite song came on, “O Holy Night.” It was the first time I had heard it this season. The hairs on my arms stood straight up and the chorus still takes my breath away. I listened in amazement and wondered how a song I’ve heard a million times can cause such a stir in my soul.
I think about the Holy Night. The one where our Savior was born. The night when God gifted us with a son named Immanuel, meaning God is with us. He certainly is, I think. I was just complaining about the dark -- the way the night sneaks upon us so quickly this time of year – forgetting about all of the magical things that happen in the night.
See the dark is where I found the most magic. Like Hank Williams sung, “I saw the light,” because the light shines brightest in the dark. A few tough years and a couple of hard Christmas’s make me cling to the smallest of things.
In the dark, I learned to seek out the details -- the miniscule things I often take for granted. I became obsessed with the tiny bits, and now I rejoice in the details so intricately woven into my days. Our God of details doesn’t miss a thing. And as I take notice, I become the richest girl in the world with jewels draped around my neck.
So, look for the little things. No matter how much or how little you have, take notice of the thousands of details that compose your time. He has carefully placed them there in plain sight. Look, listen, and feel for His presence even when it doesn’t feel like He’s here or cares. He is and He does.
And once you take notice, you’ll find yourself dancing amongst the kings and the queens.
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