Of Bears and Penguins

Advent 25

Between prodigious napping and cookbook perusing, I've watched it snow outside. Outside my parent's house. My parent's house in Dallas, Texas. Where earlier in the week it was 70 degrees.

It started out as tiny, miniscule flakes. So tiny that it was hard to tell if it was rain or snow, and it started off too warm to stick. The day's gotten a bit colder, the snow flakes more confident, and now they are unabashed. They are snowy, flaky, and sticking to bushes, yards, and lawn furniture.

Throughout the day, I've also watched my fellow Texans update their facebooks with unrestrained joy.

"White Christmas"

"Snow!"

"Prettiest Christmas Eve ever"

And it reminded me of just the simple joy of this advent season. Just simple, head out for a romp in the snow joy.

The coming of Christ is an experience of joy, of great song. Of romping, bounding, unadulterated joy. Of raised glasses, blazing fires, barking dogs, and angel choirs. Of fireworks, and tamales, of bread broken, wine poured. Of guffawing laughter, strong embraces.

So I think back to the humble stable, and of that birth. Once Mary and Joseph got through the more frightening bits, they looked down and saw a yowling baby boy, pink, and new. The animals sensing something different afoot, recalling somewhere deep in memory a first day in a long ago garden, when the cacophony of sounds filled the air in songs of the Creator's praise, began to low a bit more cheerfully then usual. I think about the shepherds showing up, perhaps a bit sheepishly not knowing entirely what to expect even though the angel had told them. Maybe when they got there, sensing an occasion for celebration, they shared such bread as they had. Coarse, spread with oil, maybe with dried meat, or nuts, and a bit of fruit. They were humbled and in awe, and thrilled all at once. Maybe Joseph and the shepherds got to laughing a bit, and Mary told them to hush, didn't they see that baby was sleeping. But she didn't really mean it, she was just radiant, if tired, and maybe the baby stirred, but remained at rest in the warmth of the impromptu welcome wagon.

A baby born out of a miraculous conception. Fully God. Fully Man. A child given unto us, upon whom would rest the names, "Wonderful. Counselor. The Mighty God. The Prince of Peace."

To bring everlasting peace, to raise the sons of earth.

Incredible, isn't it? Truly unbelievable, impossible sounding.

But then again, so is snow in Texas.

Will wonders ever cease? I sure hope not.

The most Merry Christmas to all of you out there. Raise your glass, laugh a roaring laugh, laugh until you cry. Hug up your parents and your children, your brothers, your sisters. Your dearly loved friends. We've got much gratitude to mark with joy this season. Peace to all this Holy Night.