"Into the bleakest winters of our souls, Lord, you are tiptoeing on tiny Infant feet to find us, hold our hands. May we drop whatever it is we are so busy about these days to accept this gesture so small that it may get overlooked in our frantic search for something massive and overwhelming. Remind us that it is not you who demands large, lavish celebrations and enormous strobe-lit displays of faith. Rather, you ask only that we have the faith of a mustard seed and willingness to let a small hand take ours. We are ready." ~Margaret Ann Huffman

Our family loves to drive by particular houses in our neighborhood, those that  seem to have the 'more is better' adage that guides them in their Christmas decorating. We always marvel at the time, energy and expense that goes into the countless decorations that adorn their houses and yards. Our favorite find is a Santa that is always lit and placed in the basketball hoop of one house. Our boys, now both in college, still get a kick out of seeing this Santa hanging in mid-air as if caught in a free fall from his sleigh. Two points!

We are much more subdued in our decorating. A few lights and the same decorations that have given shape to our celebration have become steeped in memories and tradition. Perhaps we are not as creative or as enthusiastic as others but it has seemed to work for our family in setting the tone of our Christmas gatherings. I'd like to think we focus more on the spirit of the people who show up to create a holiday glow to envelop our 'less is more' attitude. 

These words of Margaret Ann Huffman which I ran across in a book of table graces reminded me so much of Christmas nineteen years ago. Our youngest son was born on this day, December 8th nineteen years ago and the presence of this sweet infant boy colored all we did that Christmas. It was a particularly cold December and so we didn't go out much. We stayed in and felt the sheer peace, love and joy of having a new baby in the house. We looked out at the snow, read books, made cookies but, for the most part, did not get caught up in all the things that can overwhelm us at this time of year.

 I still remember the simplicity of that Christmas with great joy. It was an embodied reminder of the true spirit of Christmas. Infant hands and feet held the incarnation of the Holy. In their pure sweetness and beauty we knew God among us as surely as Mary and Joseph did. We did not need bright lights or expensive presents to show us the face of love. We only needed to walk over to the cradle that was crowded in near the Christmas tree and gaze at the sleeping infant whose cheeks were pink with new life, a life that held the promise of the fine young nineteen year old man he has become. The gift of our Christmas was right there under the tree.

And so today, for those Christmas days and his still unfolding life, I am filled with a mother's gratitude.