Christmas is tomorrow. The house has been decorated since Thanksgiving. The tree is lovely in new silver and white decorations and glittery ribbon. I’ve baked a tiny bit – made lots of Chex mix to give as gifts – gave in and made puppy chow for my son. I’ve shopped and wrapped and finished my lists. I even sent a dozen cards to friends and relatives the other evening.
I bought snacks and beverages and got out the good silver. The CD player is full of Christmas music. The front yard glows with red and gold, and the plastic snow man waves his upraised arms slowly side- to side- each evening. My new blow-up Olaf smiles with his hands in the air. It is crisp for Arizona – I’ve worn my boots, gloves and scarves. I’ve snuggled in the warm chenille throws watching Frosty and Charlie Brown and the Grinch. I’ve been to church and sung carols.
And yet … it isn’t here; not yet. I wait — I sit with coffee and candles and music and memories. It hasn’t arrived. When will it come? I worry that it won’t come this year. That it won’t come at all. I want to feel it! That internal spirit, that feeling of warmth, of happiness, of hopefulness. It has a fullness of its own when it settles inside me. It sometimes brings tears, sometimes smiles, but always it comes – the spirit – the unseen – the joy within…
I want to know the for sure that Christmas in ”Who-Ville” will come. Somehow or other it will come just the same.