I awake this cold Christmas Eve with a building sense of anticipation and hope (Is joy creeping in?), still chewing on what I posted yesterday:
Anticipation is a joy, and at Christmas the Eve is often better than the indulgence of the Day. Our preparation is for a guest.
A thought emerging out of the fog of my tired mind (It is the end of the year, after all) is this: Does growing maturity (which I would directly correlate with a parallel sense of willingness to embrace change) move one towards the process of enjoying anticipation, as opposed to consuming the end result? As I look back on significant moments in my life, I realize that even my memories are strewn with moments leading up to the ‘Big Events,’ as opposed to the actual experience itself. Rather, it is the process which is burned into my recollections, as opposed to the destination. This is simple when you think about it: My family honors Tree Day (the annual ritual of cutting down a fresh Douglas Fir) more than Christmas, the ingredients of Christmas Dinner more than the actual meal itself, the obscene pile of presents overflowing underneath the tree more than the actual gifts contained within.
The parallel journey of our own lives is striking to the point of chills, if you let yourself actually connect the dots. God seems to be more concerned about the preparation, than the Day itself. Could He be more interested in what happens along the way, as opposed to where we actually end up (Knowing in fact, that as we are present in opening up to Him and ourselves along the way, where we end up will be exactly right anyways!)?
And so, I offer a simple thought this Christmas Eve: Maybe this day is more significant as we mature. Maybe ‘the Eves’ in our lives are a deep gift to be embraced whole-heartedly, in whatever Eve or darkness or light you are found within.
Eves are better (For Now).