Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories
and love of kindred,
and we are better throughout the year for having,
in spirit,
become a child again at Christmas time.
Laura Ingalls Wilder
Christmas Eve was a magical time for me. I loved the anticipation of Santa much more than the arrival of presents on Christmas morning.
Christmas Eve we would go to a candle lighting service and sing carols. I loved the church being dark, the joined voices, the music, and of course the little white candle dripping hot wax down my hand. The features in the stained glass windows seemed to come alive. The mystery of the Christ child was no less important than the coming of Santa. Both seemed to be a vital part of the spirit of Christmas.
My parents allowed us to open one package on Christmas eve after church with the rest to follow in the morning. Before bed, I would sit and stare at the lights on the tree. It seemed to be a private time for thought, a quiet time. It seemed to be a pause in my otherwise active life. A time of wonderment.
Christmas eve continues to be my favorite of the season to return to childlike wonder. Not about Santa, but of the mystery of life, the seen and the unseen, and the magic of candles in the dark. A private time. A quiet time. A time for child like wonderment.
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