We decorate for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving.
It is one of my favorite days.
To see the house transformed in a matter of hours, brings me so much joy.
It is a large undertaking, but well worth the effort.

There are usually many willing hands to help.
Even as adults, when any of my children are here on that day, they do the jobs they used to do.
As we decorated, they each had their job when they were young.
They do those same jobs, without prompting, even though they now have homes of their own.

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There is no room, was often said.
The couple searched for some soft bed.
Where their long awaited baby’s cry,
Would pierce the silence of the sky.

But the sky rang loud with angels white,
Who announced the birth in dark of night.
To a sleeping town with sleeping hearts,
Unaware of what God would start.

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I remember the church I went to as a girl.
I can see the stained glass windows in my memory.
I can hear the wooden pews creak when anyone sat down.
I can smell the old wood and the pungent aroma of incense that was used in various liturgies.

It was Christmas time that I loved the most.
I remember the large wooden Nativity that was set up on the side of the church.
It was behind the altar rail so it could be seen but not touched by little hands.
I was mesmerized by the figures of Mary and Joseph; the sheep looked so real to me.

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This is the time of year to listen to Christmas music.
I confess that I begin listening a bit earlier each year.
I used to wait until after Thanksgiving.
I usually stop listening a few days after Christmas.

Maybe it is the headlines in the news.
Maybe it is the uncertainty of our times.
Maybe it is just a bit of nostalgia.
Perhaps it is a little bit of all those reasons.

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This Whisper was first published on May 29, 2012.
I actually wrote it years before.
I was asked to read this at a women’s Christmas brunch years before that.
It is good to remember again the truth of these words.

When I have to wrap a present, I must pull down the attic stairs and climb up to get a box.
I have climbed up to my attic many times, sure that I will find the perfect box.
I discover that I have every size box but the one I need.
Even when I find the right one, I realize the wrapping paper is six inches short.
I have yet to find a tactful way to hide that mistake.

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My daughter sent the text to all of us.
I stood there in the grocery store and giggled out loud.
I love getting updates about my granddaughters.
This one was so sweet and so innocent.

It had happened once before.
My daughter laughed about it later, but at the time she wasn’t so sure.
You never know what is going to come out of a child’s mouth.
Especially if that child is a toddler learning new words every day.

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She had been burning the candle at both ends.
She knew it but she had to get things done.
She knew her attitude was not the best.
But all of the preparations do not just happen.

All of the gifts do not buy themselves.
All of the cards do not get magically written.
She was losing her Christmas spirit and she knew it.
She just didn’t know how to get it back.

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Everything takes longer when you have little helpers beside you.
Things are messier.
Things need to be explained along the way.
It would be much easier to do the job by yourself.

It would not be half as fun!

Children need to know that they are a part of things.
People who believe that, children should be seen and not heard are missing out on quite a lot.
Children have so much to offer.
Children can teach us a thing or two.

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My two older daughters came over for dinner.
My granddaughter was here as well.
She has not been here since we decorated for Christmas a week ago.
She was enthralled with everything she saw.

She looked at the Nutcracker that is the same height as her.
My oldest daughter made the Nutcracker talk.
She was a bit skeptical about his moving mouth, but she was still intrigued.
It is so wonderful to see Christmas through the eyes of a child.

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This post was originally published on December 13, 2016. It needed to be published again for the precious heart of someone who is grieving this Christmas.

I passed their house almost every day.
It was a typical colonial house with a front porch.
I never turned my head towards the house except at Christmas time.
The spotlight on the front lawn helped call attention to what was intended to be a focal point.

A wicker settee and two chairs could easily be passed over on any given day.
However, at Christmas time the settee became the resting place for Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
The festive couple were not gaudy in any way.
Actually, as the Claus couple go, they were quite subdued.

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