I love the feeling of Christmas, don’t you? I never want my soul to get so calloused and shriveled up that I don’t feel tender love and hopeful wonder at Christmas time. That Christmassy feeling has been very slow coming this year. There are some reasons. Four in particular.
One, we started the month in Oregon and we were concentrating on the birth of our 20th grandchild and the health and well-being of our daughter, Holly who lives on the West Coast.
Second, when we returned we were immediately busy preparing for the funeral of a young mother in our church who died suddenly. It did not feel like a time of celebration.
Third, the weather has been unseasonably beautiful and warm. It’s been delightful and it can stay this way until May as far as I’m concerned, but it does not make you feel like taking a drive in the country with a mug of cocoa and shouting a Christmas greeting to everyone you see.
Finally, Lois and I live in an empty nest. It is a wonderful old empty nest but it is empty of children. The eight little reasons to make a big deal about Christmas have grown up and moved away. Hope and Chuk and their families are 40 minutes away. Kyle and his family, are an hour away. Hannah and her family live an hour and a half away. Heidi and hers are six hours away. Dan and Wes and their families are in Texas, which is another COUNTRY… and Holly and hers live on the West Coast, so we don’t tuck the children in and read A Visit from Saint’ Nicholas at night like we used to. We don’t make Christmas cookies. We don’t have Wee Sing for Christmas playing on a stereo in their room like we did those years ago.
So for those reasons and who knows what others, that Christmassy feeling eluded me.
So last night I was driving home. I can go the country way or I can drive through town. The country way is longer but quicker. The town way is shorter but takes more time. Last night I went home through town.
On the south end of town, the street and a bike trail intersect. Whenever I pass a bike trail I pine for a warm summer evening and a trial ride. I imagine the wind in my face and the playful freedom of riding a human-powered vehicle.
I had carols playing in my car, a favorite old Christmas album by James Taylor… Who Comes This Night… this wintry night…. I took the town way to enjoy the Christmas lights for a bit.
Approaching the bike tail on West Ave. just north of Ella Sharp Park I noticed someone crossing the street on the trail. It looked almost like a group. I slowed out of respect for common humanity and fellow bikers.
I came to a full stop when I realized what was happening in front of me. A man and a woman about the age of Lois and I were helping a young woman on an adult trike cross the road. She was either physically impaired or developmentally disabled and she was concentrating all her effort on the simple act of pedaling a her trike. It was all she could do with the help of others to keep the bike moving forward. She had a determined look on her face.
The man and woman smiled, waved their thanks, and returned to getting the young lady across the street. In that moment Christmas came again, like it always does. Christmas came to my heart and tears to my eyes.
Jesus has come and one day, maybe soon he will ban all sin, disease, sickness, sadness, sorrow, disability, and death. The lame will leap and the blind will see and the glory of the Lord will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.
Merry Christmas from out on Bittersweet Farm
Bittersweet Farm | December 16, 2023
