Blue Light Special Christmas

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

The older I get, the more that statement makes sense.

As a child, my mother always decorated our house with blue lights for Christmas. We would have those three-prong, plastic candelabras in our windows with blue lights. I would fall asleep bathed in the smurfy light they provided.

There were always blue lights in the bathroom. But these would be the small twinkle lights, wrapped around garland and hung around the mirror.

Mom said that the calm, blue light reminded her of the hope for peace on earth that was born with the Christ Child, and the quiet, expectant hush that must have been the mood in the stable that night.

On Christmas Eve, we would get dressed up in our Christmas finery, attend the candlelight service at church and drive around afterwards to look at everyone elses lights. When we got home, my brother and I would beg to open a gift...and we would be allowed to open our presents to each other. Then we would be tucked in bed and given instructions not to venture out to the tree until everyone was up.

In the morning, B. and I would crouch outside our parents bedroom door and plan our blitz attack to wake them from their long winter's nap. While we bounced around their bedroom, Grandma and Grandpa were called. We were allowed to explore our stockings while we waited for them to arrive. They took forever. And then, the adults had to get their juice and coffee and settle themselves into the living room, so they could get a good view of us "kids." B. and I would race in, and there would be squeals of joy and great excitement in exchanging gifts.

And after all of the craziness subsided, and friends were called and hair was combed and teeth were brushed, we would pile in the car to head to Aunt G's. All of the aunts and uncles and cousins would be there. And we would share a meal, and give thanks for the birth of Jesus.

This Christmas, the immediate family will exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. We'll go to church together, and then there will be the drive to look at Christmas lights. Inevitably, we'll pass a house decked out in blue, and the wonder of Christmas will invade my heart, and I'll feel all of eight years old again. Christmas morning, my nephews will be waiting for Mom and Dad and me to show up to their house so they can open gifts. I'm sure they think we take forever. I'll take my time getting my coffee and picking my seat, just like Grandma and Grandpa used to. Then the nephews will be allowed in, and they will squeal with joy, and be excited to show us the gifts that they picked out at Secret Santa. And we will share breakfast together, and give thanks for the gift of Jesus.

And the heart of Christmas remains the same, despite changes in circumstances and perspectives.

Happy Christmas everyone. See you in 2008.