Our Christmas tree still isn't up, and this morning I'm on my way to work, then on to another busy afternoon of last minute errands. But last night, I got to slow down and witness the miracle of Christmas. Now, as miracles go, this one was pretty common. It involved lots of commotion, antsy kids, and even a few "accidents" from some four legged critters. The cast was familiar: shepherds, angels, wise men, an inn keeper, a drummer boy. And of course, Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus - who woke up, threw off his swaddling clothes and.................. proceeded to bless everyone with iconic grace-filled gestures, while playing quietly with the littlest angel. No joke. It was beautiful.
My youngest child stayed miraculously still as part of the angel choir, for once not drawing attention for anything other than her sweet reverence of the scene before her. Watching her, I couldn't help but recall Christmas Pageants past with my older children; my littlest angels and drummer boy growing through the years into shepherds, Angel Gabriels, Virgin Mothers and Kings. This year, as they have for the last several, they provided narration and angelic music, unseen in the balcony. Again, beautiful.
Sometimes it takes a ghost - or a memory - to remind us what Christmas is really all about.