Who rules Christmas?

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What causes this yearly feeling of being “mangled”? This inexorable pressing down on every part of one’s person until stretched beyond limit to the thinnest, most gossamer of layers where gaps begin to spontaneously appear for seemingly no reason?

The season is the reason.  This glorious, blessèd, complicated, spontaneous, long-awaited,  piercing joy and crucible known as Christmas.

How does one stop that mangled feeling?

I suspect simply by this.

Kneeling again at the manger.

In quiet.

Alone.

Just as I am.

Kneeling with eyes closed where no words need be said, no presents need be wrapped, no tasks need be done.

Until, again, nothing is an it and everything is a You.

Taking time, breathing deep, eyes closed, paused.  Until Truth rises again cathedral-like around me and above me and pushes back all its walls until all I can see is the star-lit sky on Christmas night and the truth of a new day dawning.

Hope.

IMMANUEL.

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A merry, blessed, incrementally more wondrous Christmastide to all my readers.

 

jsg/dec 16

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