“Silent night, holy night, All is calm, all is bright… “ – Joseph Mohr
It was magical.
We’d spent the day of Christmas Eve with my mom and dad – opening gifts and eating a Christmas feast. Now we were driving back to our own home, two and a half hours, and five counties away – wanting our two young sons to wake up in their own beds on Christmas morning.
We were in our own little bubble, traveling through Tacoma, Seattle, Everett. The young sons – four and one and a half – were strapped into the back seat, sleeping the deep, trusting sleep of young children, while Scott and I listened to classical Christmas music on the radio, and took in the sight of the Christmas lights that seemed to shine out from every home and apartment – light uniting with light in a spirit of good will and joy.
As we rose over the last hill and descended into the valley of our home county, we were suddenly surrounded by a sparkling snow-covered landscape. We hadn’t been expecting snow, and the pristine beauty of it, glittering in the moonshine, took my breath away.
We left the freeway and drove through snow-covered fields, down the country roads that would bring us to our home. It was very late by now, and there were no other cars on the roads. We had the beauty of the night to ourselves – a gift just for us. The very air seemed filled with an expectancy of good, a quiet, waiting anticipation, and complete peace.
We pulled into our driveway and carried the sons upstairs to their beds, then hurried back downstairs. There were still things we had to do before the dawn of Christmas morning.
I lit candles and put them on the windowsill, so that our light could join in with the other lights “shining in darkness,” and put on a Christmas CD. Scott pulled out his tools and the box full of bike parts that would, by the next morning, turn into our four year-old’s first bike. I pulled out the bouncy horse with springs that would become our youngest son’s faithful steed, and wrapped gifts, and hummed Christmas songs, and let myself fill up with gratitude for the night and the peace and the snow; for my precious sons asleep in their beds; for my husband busily assembling the bike; and for the starlight and moonglow and light shining from homes, filling the darkness and cold with hope and joy.
“‘Let there be light,’ is the perpetual demand of Truth and Love, changing chaos into order and discord into the music of the spheres.” – Mary Baker Eddy