I am writing you from smack in the middle of the Canadian Rockies. There is at least a foot of snow outside and majestic mountains just beyond the reach of my outstretched fingers. To say we are surrounded by beauty cannot relay to you the wonder of being enclosed in majesty. But as much as I treasure that joy of God’s natural creativity, I enjoy the gifts inside our cabin even more. There is Gil who is washing the lunch dishes, Melody who is rummaging through her backpack, and Amy in the next room taking a nap under her pink Hello Kitty Christmas quilt. Then I also think of Donna paddling in the water beside me, laughing between strokes, both of us surrounded by the outrageous and slightly demented women on our dragon boat racing team, the Angry Unicorns, who are usually not angry at all, just weird. There is Deborah conducting her Christmas concert in the grandest theater in town, Christine singing the soprano descant which gives me a heavy case of the giggles her voice is so beautiful, and Sue and Bob in the next town over who are so down-to-earth and loving, joy wells up in me whenever I see them for I know I’m in for a good talk with amazingly real people.
As a child, I loved Christmas, partly, maybe even mostly, for the gifts. Not much has changed. I still love the gifts but what those gifts are has drastically changed. Instead of something I can open, these gifts open me– to a wider world, to deeper thoughts, to greater love, and truer joy. These gifts move without batteries (though coffee helps for some), and you never know what they are going to say (there is no prerecording unless you call their voicemail). Without a remote control, they walk into the room and without turning a single switch, they light up my face with a smile.
These are the best gifts of all, people to love who love me back and as we move through Advent, waiting for Jesus, the greatest gift, I am thanking our God for all these other gifts of mine that light up my world like Christmas lights in the night, while waiting for the dawn.