Christmas Day officially ended 37 minutes ago. Even though I know that the Christmas spirit lives on, I’m always a little sad to see the day end because I know it means the end of all those festive decorations and lights.
Still more than that, it means the end to the time when I feel most closely connected to the past and all those family and friends who are no longer here. Somehow, those memories seem to visit me a little more freely at this time and I’m a little more thankful for them.
The beauty of Christmas is that because of the child born in the manger, no one I loved is ever really lost to me. I have the hope of seeing them again one day. Those of us who have received the greatest gift of Christmas in the form of Jesus can grieve not as those who have no hope but will the full assurance of the blessed hope that Christ has given to us.
That’s the same hope that nullifies any fear of death and the grave. It cancels out any fear of what anybody here on earth can do to me. That hope not only gives me a future but also an abundant life here and now.
It’s now 12:45. It’s all quiet except for the sound of my geriatric cat purring on the pillow next to mine. I’m still trying to make sense of the blur that has been the last five weeks since Thanksgiving.
I know that the next Christmas Day rolls around in 364 days but I also know the promise that day holds will be good tomorrow and the day after that and through all the days of the year.
That same gift that came in the manger so long ago is still available to anyone who asks and seeks the Christ in faith.