Soccer Mom: Unplugged

We often refer to the "magic of the season".   The sparkling lights, the cheerful music, children staring at wrapped packages with almost breathless anticipation, it seems all things work together to lift our hearts.   The real power of the holidays, however,   isn't magic at all.   It's faith.   It's that marvelous ability to believe in the unseen and incredible.   Whether it's a jolly elf with a bag full of toys or the humble and all too human incarnation of a Savior in the startled, sticky body of a newborn babe, we seem to come to a general consensus that miracles exist.   Strangers seem friendlier, neighbors kinder and we even find ourselves more patient and loving at home.   The remarkable gift of faith motivates us to exchange small tokens in the belief that they will convey the magnitude of the most profound eternal emotion, love.  

We hear a lot in the media about a "War on Christmas" and about the secularization of our society.   Certainly, the adversary of both God and men wages fierce battles to lead us away from faith and toward a carnal and sensual existence but last night, as we drove home from a Christmas party, my faith in man's ability to overcome this enemy expanded.   You can't help but notice the festive lights as you drive through the countryside, especially, in the profound dark of a lonely state highway.   As I distracted myself, mentally noting the decorated homes, I realized that nearly every house that we passed was celebrating Christmas.   Many only had interior lights but I could spot the flicker of lights on trees through curtained windows.   About halfway through the drive home, I made sport of the diversion and tried to find houses that had no sign of the holiday.   They were few and far between.   I won't pretend that every home was inhabited by devout Christians or that every decoration was sacred rather than secular and yet, the fact that virtually every home was open to the spirit of the season gave me hope.   At the very least, the disdain for Christmas described in the media, was totally absent.   Thank God in His heaven for people who are willing to believe!   It was a sweet reminder that even the faintest glimmer of hope dispels the dark and that as long as men are willing to believe, there is an open door through which the dear Lord can enter.

After a heartwarming ride home, we realized as we pulled into the driveway that a secret Santa had left a box full of presents on the porch.   The children were excited and confused wondering if Santa had visited so early.   Later as we tucked them into bed, I reminded them to go to sleep so that Kris Kringle could come and fill their stockings.   "But Santa already came!"   my 5 year old said.   I explained that the gifts on the porch were likely not from Santa but from a well meaning friend or neighbor who knew that my husband quit his job and wanted to assure the children had toys for the holiday.   My oldest child looked at me thoughtfully, moved by the compassion of our benefactor, and gave me the best gift of the year.   "But Mom," he said "Christmas isn't about presents."  

Lest he feel uncomfortable with the anonymous generosity, I reminded him that the gifts we give to one another are a type and shadow of the greatest gift.   They remind us that true joy comes from sacrificing for others and that the charity that compels us to give can satisfy both the giver and receiver.   How beautiful that a 9 year old boy could see through the wrappings and trim at the sweet love with which each toy was ribboned and each cookie baked.  

This Christmas, as with every one before, I've been filled with the richly satisfying sweetness of the faith of my fellow men and find myself renewed, uplifted and desirous to do good continually. Today, as we remember how God fulfilled His covenant to send a Savior, may we each find our faith strengthened and our eyes more open to the miracles around us. 

Oh yes... and God bless us, every one.