To Those Who Wait...
"I spend the holidays holding hands," my friend Pastor Bob said to me the other day, his way of acknowledging that for many of us, the joy that comes with Christmas is tempered by grief, loved ones we lost at this time of year. There are just so many things to remind us.
We had a muted day, fewer gifts and a slow, quiet afternoon. We talked with family far away and watched Patrick Stewart's Scrooge learn to keep Christmas in his heart. My friend Scott came over for dinner, and we talked about his recent trip to Palau in western Micronesia. John played with his new GameBoy Advance SP and Beth studied the manual for her new digital camera. We sat by the fire as Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sang from the TV in the other room, and then Julie opened the front door.
Yeah, it was a rough one, lots of memories to sort through, lots of Christmases past to think about. Lots of ghosts. Palau seemed a safe subject, actually.
But at 9:30 p.m. on Christmas night, at the end of a long day, we had a memory to start the rest of our lives.
"It's snowing," my wife said, and it was.
2:07:19 PM 
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