Christmas was in our back seat last night singing carols in the most charming three year old voice that I've ever heard. My heart melted a little bit and Todd and I looked at each other and smiled and laughed quietly because those are the moments of parenthood that I wish I could bottle up and save and somehow be able to relive again later.
Christmas was in the air this morning in our chilly house. I surrendered to the heater and my home filled with that familiar smell that comes when you turn it on for the very first time in a very long time. It smelled like cookies and laughter and holly and merry-making.
Christmas was in the text message that I received from my sister. Which was nothing extraordinary, but it was that she was including me in her life and updating me on her world and in that, asking for more closeness. Relationship, real-ationship, especially with her, feels like this big humbling gift. Probably because it has involved great cost and many years of tears and of sitting back and waiting and waiting and waiting.
Christmas was in my husband's embrace. How I've learned to rest in his touch and have stopped pulling away when he comes to grace with me his affection and tenderness.
I'm starting to look. Starting to notice pieces of Christmas in places I may not have seen them before. They've been under and over and underneath and between - small and quiet and could have gone by unseen had I not been trying to find them.